WALTER  PATER 

BY 


GERALD  HEWES  CARSON 


THESIS 

FOR  THE 

DEGREE  OF  BACHELOR  OF  ARTS 


IN 

ENGLISH 


COLLEGE  OF  LIBERAL  ARTS  AND  SCIENCES 

UNIVERSITY  OF  ILLINOIS 


1921 


m\ 

UNIVERSITY  OF  ILLINOIS 

LU 

C/O 

Je 192/ 

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DEGREE  OF  E/  CZ^/z  U>  A U <;//  .{  A 

2D  /uaD/  / . ‘AAA'iyi/?76>/7 

Instructor  in  Charge 

ApPROVRTT  22  77^  AAc^zA?-j^<^ 

HEAD  OF  DEPARTMENT  OF  aLaI^^/AlA? 

t o-G?  i'  c? 

Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2016 


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Chapt er 
Chap  ter 
Chapter 
Chap  ter 
Chapter 


Tab] e of  Contents 

I.  Literary  and  Artistic  Criticism. 

II.  Marius  The  Epicurean. 

III.  The  "Imaginary  Portraits." 

IV.  The  "Greek  Studies." 

V.  The  Paterian  Plato 
Bibl iography 


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CHAPTER  I 

LITERARY  AND  ARTISTIC  CRITICISM 

Walter  Pater  never  succeeded  in  escaping  from  himself;  and 
because  of  his  own  intensely  personal  vein  his  criticism  is  subject 
to  distinct  linitations,  gaining  as  well,  it  is  to  be  noted,  a spe- 
cial force  impossible  in  objective  criticism.  It  was  his  constant 
desire  to  enter  into,  t.o  assimilate,  spiritual  moods,  philosophies, 
all  things  mirrored  in  historical  events.  But  he  was  temperamental- 
ly unfitted  to  be  the  impersonal  agent,  concerned  merely  with  the 
function  of  bringing  his  material  into  a new  bright  focus.  He  was 
definitely  limited  in  his  appreciation  of  Rosetti,  for  example,  by 
his  absorbing  intellectual  passion;  "the  innermost  world  of  mystical 
passion  in  which  Rosetti  lived  was  as  a locked  and  darkened  chamber 
to  Pater".  He  suffered  the  same  limitation  in  interpreting  Plato, 
or  the  Stoic  ideal  of  Marcus  Aurelius;  "to  him  history  was  only  an 
extension  of  his  own  Ego,  and  he  saw  himself  whithersoever  he  turn- 
ed his  eyes".  The  fact  is  noted  by  all  commentators;  by  some,  such 
as  Benson,  with  extenuation,  and  an  insistence  on  the  rare  "creative 
criticism"  which  he  evolved;  by  others,  for  example,  Paul  Elmer  More, 
with  considerable  asperity. 

Pater’s  gain  in  working  ever  in  the  presence  of  his  own  ego, 
made  of  his  work  "a  species  of  poetical  and  interpretative  crit- 
icism, of  a creative  order,  working  upon  slender  hints  and  employing 
artistic  productions  as  texts  and  motifs  for  imaginative  creation". 

It  was  not  in  dealing  with  matters  of  fact,  in  mere  lucid  exposition, 
or  even  in  the  enunciation  of  aesthetic  or  critical  principles  that 
Pater  was  at  his  best;  but  rather,  in  the  imaginative  penetration 


-2. 

of  events*  of  past  crises  of  spirit*  the  elaboration  and  restoration 
of  "the  recondite,  the  suggestive  element"  in  the  subjects  he  treat- 
ed. 

Such  a work  as  his  lecture  on  Raphael  in  which  his  purpose 
is  expository  rather  than  the  interpretation  of  the  Raphael itic 
spirit*  or  the  bulk  of  the  "Essays  from  the  Guardian"  add  very  little 
to  his  reputation*  There  is  no  subtle,  insinuating  elaboration  of 
slender  hints.  They  are  not  in  the  characteristic  Pater ian  manner. 

Pater  exercises  this  peculiar  individual  gift  of  re-incarna- 
ting  figures  from  the  dead  past  by  a singular  critical  proceedure* 

His  method  was  to  settle  on  one  distinctive  quality  of  the  art  or 
poetry  he  wishes  to  illuminate,  and  subject  it  to  all  possible 
elaboration  of  suggestive  and  poetic  conjecture. 

"His  Studies  in  the  Reaissance,  for  example*  do  not 
attempt  to  deal  with  the  Renaissance  as  a whole,  as  a 
phenomenon.  They  do  not  even  attempt  to  give  complete 
portraits  of  the  men  whose  names  stand  as  headings  to  the 
chapters.  Pater’s  glance  is  concentrated  on  some  one 
characteristic  of  the  personages  he  deals  with.  The  event- 
ful life  of  Pico  della  Mirandola  is  barely  alluded  to;  for 
in  this  essay  Pater  emphasizes,  as  usual,  some  particular 
feature  of  the  man;  his  endeavor  to  reconcile  Christianity 
with  the  philosophy  of  ancient  Greece.  * * * We  see,  then, 
what  Pater’s  own  peculiar  aim  is.  He  fastens  his  attention 
on  one  particular  characteristic  of  a thing  and  illuminates 
it  so  strongly  with  his  "gemlike  flame"  that  he  reinter- 
prets it,  gives  it  a new  value,  exercising,  in  short,  crea- 
tive criticism,  and  proving  Wilde’s  theory  that  criticism 


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is  a more  difficult  task  than  creation  itself"** 

It  has  been  frequently  remarked  that  the  writers  of  the  early 
nineteenth  century  were  sustained  by  religion  and  misunderstood 
Hellenism*  Pater  cannot  be  accurately  assigned  to  either  group,  for 
though  his  Hellenism  was  in  its  characteristic  qualities  chiefly  of 
his  own  creation,  it  was  a creation  based  not  upon  misapprehension, 
or  lack  of  sympathetic  imagination,  but  upon  certain  pecul iarities 
of  temperament  which  colored  the  romantic,  shadowy,  complex  mani- 
festations of  Greek  antiquity  which  remained  to  him,  with  the  roseate 
glow  of  his  own  impassioned  imagination. 

A kindred  temperament,  also  born  out  of  its  age,  we  may  fancy 
from  Pater’s  sympathetic  essay,  was  Winckelraann,  whose  chief  quality 
he  fixes  upon  as  a peculiar,  intuitive  aptitude  for  the  apprehension 
of  life,  as  inspiration  in  the  sphere  of  art  which  opened  "a  new  or- 
gan for  the  human  spirit."  "Hellenism,"  remarks  Pater  in  the  essay,, 
"has  always  been  most  effectively  conceived  by  those  who  have  crept 
into  it  out  of  an  intellectual  world  in  which  the  sombre  elements 
predominate."  In  that  case  Winckelmann  sprang  from  excellent  soil; 
the  child  of  a tradesman,  a youth  growing  to  manhood  in  the  most  sor- 
did circumstances,  a dull  uninspired  program  of  education,  from  which 
le  had  to  flee  incontinently  to  escape  being  enmeshed  in  German 
theology,  all  conspired  to  give  Winckelraann  a full  bitter  potion  of 
the  discipline  of  repression. 

No  aesthetic  theorist  ever  held  to  those  ideas  of  life  and 
conduct  and  the  appreciation  of  the  beautiful  which  he  had  evolved  in 
long  years  of  study  and  reflection,  with  more  passionate  affirmation 
than  Pater,  yet  he  never,  in  marked  contrast  to  Matthew  Arnold,  went 

* J.  M.  Kennedy.  English  Literature  1380-1905. 

P.  32  and  37. 


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on  the  stump,  so  to  speak,  for  his  ideals*  It  was  "but  a natural  con- 
formity to  the  tenets  of  his  philosophy,  and  one  perhaps  which  we 
should  only  expect. 

As  he  neglected  to  champion  them,  he  may  be  said  to  have 
scarcely  formulated  them.  We  can  abstract  no  such  catch-words  as 
"the  grand  manner",  "high  seriousness,"  "sweetness  and  light",  from 
his  writings.  As  succinct  a statement  of  a dominant  thought  as  may 
be  found  appears  in  the  famous  Conclusion  to  The  Renaissance,  where 
he  sums  up  "the  good,  the  beautiful  and  the  true"  of  existence  as 
characterized  by  the  note  of  intellectual  passion,  of  receptivity 
toward  sensuous  impression,  of  burning  with  ecstatic,  lambent  flame, 
which  epitomize  "success  in  life."  It  was  the  philosophy  minutely 
set  forth  in  Marius  the  Epicurean,  and  one,  as  Pater  himself  real  ize<^ 
easy  of  mis  interpretation.  Detailed  discussion  of  the  ethical  im- 
plications of  this  philosophy  of  life  is  reserved  for  the  chapter  on 
Marius  the  Epicurean. 

In  the  "Essay  on  Style"  we  get  the  closest  approach  there  is 
to  an  exposition  of  Pater’s  own  art.  The  close  distinction  which  has 
been  made  of  late  between  prose  and  verse  is  in  danger  of  being 
pressed  too  closely,  he  finds.  The  difference  in  form  is  often  mis- 
taken for  one  of  spirit;  when,  as  a matter  of  fact,  there  is  much 
prose  cast  in  verse  form;  and  there  is  a thoroughly  poetic  qual ity 
attained  in  some  varieties  of  prose.  Imaginative  prose,  --  Pater 
calls  it  "the  special  and  opportune  art  of  the  modern  world",  as 
suited  best  to  the  complexity  of  our  life,  and  the  naturalistic  trend 
of  art  and  literature  today.  The  true  stylist,  the  1 iterary  artist, 
will  address  himself  to  a scholarly  audience,  one  with  the  "male  con- 
science", with  delicate  appreciation  and  wide  experience  in  3 itera. 


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ture.  He  delights  in  a strict  economy  of  means,  in  fitting  the 
right  word  into  its  appropriate  context,  finding  the  str enuousness 
of  the  search  stimulating,  productive  of  the  highest  artistic 
pleasure;  he  must  share  Flaubert's  ideal  of  the  right  word  or  phrase 
whose  use  is  as  inevitable  as  though  predestined,  and  the  guarantee 
of  perfection!  an  organic,  architectural  unity  of  design  and  effect,. 
As  an  aesthetic  critic  he  attempted  to  combat  the  tendency 
toward  abstraction,  formalization,  as  adding  nothing  to  the  enjoy* 
ment  of  art  or  poetry,  and  failing  even  in  giving  any  new  precision 
to  such  words  as  beauty,  excellence,  art,  poetry,  which  are  hope- 
lessly abstract  and,  per  se.  completely  beyond  the  power  of  defin- 
ition. 

"Beauty,  like  all  other  qualities  presented  to 
human  experience,  is  relative;  and  the  definition 
of  it  becomes  unmeaning  and  useless  in  proportion 
to  its  abstractness.  ***  What  is  important,  then, 
is  not  that  the  critic  should  possess  a correct 
abstract  definition  of  beauty  for  the  intellect, 
but  a certain  kind  of  temperament,  the  power  of  be- 
ing deeply  moved  by  the  presence  of  beautiful  ob- 
jects. He  will  remember  always  that  beauty  exists 
in  many  forms.  To  him  all  periods,  types,  schools  of 
taste,  are  in  themselves  equal.  In  all  ages  there 
have  been  some  excellent  workmen,  and  some  excellent 
work  done.  The  question  he  asks  is  always:  --  In 

whom  did  the  stir,  the  genius,  the  sentiment  of  the 
period  find  itself?  Where  was  the  receptacle  of  it3 
refinement,  its  elevation,  its  taste?  "The  ages  are  all 


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equal , ” says  William  Blake,  *but  genius  is  always 
above  its  age.®” 

In  MThe  School  of  Giorgione”  he  ventures  with  unusual  ex- 
plicitness to  promulgate  aesthetic  principles.  Art  addresses  us 
neither  through  pure  sense  nor  pure  reason,  but  through  the  "imagina- 
tive reason”,  so  that  each  art  has  ”its  own  peculiar  and  untranslat- 
able sensuous  charm,  has  its  own  special  mode  of  reaching  the 
imagination,  its  own  special  responsibilities  to  its  material.  One 
of  the  functions  of  aesthetic  criticism  is  to  define  these  limita- 
tions; to  estimate  the  degree  in  which  a given  work  of  art  fulfils 
its  responsibilities  to  its  special  material,”  to  present,  in  short, 
”a  philosophy  of  the  variations  of  the  beautiful.”  Pater  does,  how- 
ever, in  working  toward  another  idea  prominent  in  his  aesthetics, 
admit  "although  each  art  has  thus  its  own  specific  order  of  im- 
pressions yet  it  is  noticeable  that,  in  its  special  mode  of  hand- 
ling its  given  material,  each  art  may  be  observed  to  pass  into  the 
condition  of  some  other  art”,  and  shortly  there  comes  the  pronuncia- 
mento  laid  down  with  unusual  emphasis  and  clarity,  ”A1 1 art  constant  - 
ly  aspires  towards  the  condition  of  music 

In  the  field  of  art  criticism,  Pater  still  remained  a distinct 
ly  literary  influence.  Perhaps  it  is  well  that  he  devoted  little 
attention  to  the  material  or  technical  aspects  of  art,  Mr.  A.  C, 
Benson  has  devoted  considerable  time  and  care  to  setting  forth  the 
errors  which  he  committed  in  his  artistic  judgements.  His  mission 
was  the  revelation  of  the  poetical,  suggestive  quality  in  art,  of 
what  it  meant  to  him,  and  what  he  conceived  to  be  its  general  signif- 
icance, He  shared  with  RuBkin  perhaps  the  feeling  of  the  need  for 
the  humanization  of  art,  of  the  opportunity,  in  treating  it  with  a 
high  seriousness, to  widen  and  deepen  immeasurably  its  power  in  a 


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society  overindustrial ized,  over -commercial ized,  weary  of  thousand- 
giged  respectability  and  laissez  faire* 

One  must  be  on  his  guard  here  again  not  to  over -state  the  case; 
for  the  bracketting  of  Pater  with  Ruskin  would  endow  him  with  a 
mission,  an  in-touch-ness  with  the  stream  of  nineteenth  century 
thought  and  activity  which  he  was  far  from  experiencing,  from  which 
he  certainly  shrank. 

Pater’s  proceedure,  in  bringing  out  all  the  nuances  of  *' ex- 
pressiveness” in  interpreting  the  sentiment  of  art,  is  happily  put  by 
Perris  Greenslet,  Says  Greenslet,  ”he  studies  history,  biography, 
letters,  fragmentary  remains,  all  the  flotsam  and  jetsam  of  the  past, 
and  revives  the  atmosphere,  or  — to  use  a word  savouring  of  the  shop 
- the  mil ieu  of  the  artist;  then  he  subjects  the  painter’s  work  to  a 
kind  of  long,  mystic  meditation,  until  by  virtue  of  his  mediumship 
we  behold  the  very  spirit  of  it,  and  even  partake  of  the  mood  wherein 
it  was  created." 

Among  the  characteristic  motives  of  the  Renaissance  which  Pater 
mentions  appear  "the  care  for  physical  beauty,  the  worship  of  the 
body,  the  breaking  down  of  those  limits  which  the  religious  system  of 
the  middle  age  imposed  on  the  heart  and  the  imagination,”  Sandro 
Botticelli  came  "a  poetical  painter,  blending  the  charm  of  story  and 
sentiment,  the  medium  of  the  art  of  poetry,  with  the  charm  of  line 
and  color"  as  a new  interpreter  of  the  relitious  sentiment,  leaving 
behind  him  the  simple,  received  religion  of  the  century  which  pre- 
ceded him,  taking  his  inspiration  from  the  well-springs  of  his  own 
religious  emotion. 

Botticelli’s  work  exhibits  a strange  blending  of  the  real  and 
the  ideal,  "that  middle  world  in  which  men  take  no  sides  in  the  great 
0 onf  * mak a^jSt-g£jsaiL, refuse i a , 


-8- 

He  thus  sets  himself  the  limits  within  which  art,  undisturbed  by  any 
moral  ambition,  does  its  most  sincere  and  surest  work,**  Pater 
speaks  so  frequently  of  the  dis -severing  of  art  from  "moral  ambition" 
that  we  cannot  well  avoid  the  conclusion  that  he  considered  such  a 
separation  as  nothing  less  than  an  emancipation  for  beauty* 

In  the  "Essay  on  Style"  the  same  creed  is  stated  for  literary 
art,  the  spokesman  this  time  being  Flaubert® 

"Those  who  write  in  good  style  are  sometimes 
accused  of  a neglect  of  ideas,  and  of  the  moral  end, 
as  if  the  end  of  the  physician  were  something  else 
than  healing,  of  the  painter  than  painting  — as  if 
the  end  of  art  were  not,  before  ail  else,  the 
beautiful" * 

The  crop  which  grew  from  the  seed  sown  by  Pater  may  be  found 
flourishing  in  ripe  luxuriance  in  the  artistic  theories  laid  down  by 
Oscar  Wilde  in  the  preface  to  Dorian  Gray*  A few  examples  will  be 
sufficient* 

"No  artist  has  ethical  sympathies.  An  ethical 
sympathy  in  an  artist  is  an  unpardonable  mannerism  of 
style." 

"Vice  and  virtue  are  to  the  artist  materials  for 
his  art." 

"The  only  excuse  for  making  a useless  thing  is 
that  one  admires  it  intensely." 

"All  art  is  quite  useless." 

This  is  the  direct,  succinct  statement  of  the  "art  for  art’s  sake" 
creed  of  the  whole  aesthetic  school 0 

One  of  the  most  famous  examples  of  Pater’s  invasive  imagina- 
tion is  the  consummate  essay  "Leonardo  da  Vinci",  in  which  occurs 


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the  celebrated,  often  quoted,  passage  on  La  Glonconda*  Da  Vinci’s 
art  was  born  of  the  conflict  of  curiosity  and  the  desire  for  beauty* 
MThis  struggle  between  the  reason  and  its  ideas, 
and  the  senses,  the  desire  of  beauty,  is  the  key 
to  Leonardo’s  life  at  Milan  --  his  restlessness, 
his  endless  re -touchings,  his  odd  experiments  with 
col  our . " 

In  the  years  which  followed,  Da  Vinci’s  life  has  all  the 
colour  and  glamourous  movement  which  we  at  the  distance  of  five 
centuries  find  so  picturesque;  romantic  adventure,  the  brilliance 
and  excitement  of  court  life,  the  chastening  of  poverty  and  distress* 
And  all  the  while  his  expanding  genius,  Goethean  in  its  proportions, 
urged  him  on  to  ceaseless  bold  experimentation,  unheard-of  artistic 
invention*  All  the  high  zest  and  torturing  travail  of  the  passion- 
ately active  intellectual  principle  in  his  nature  (as  an  approach  to 
maturity  so  attractive  to  Pater  himself J)  was  finally  devoted  to  his 
portrayal  of  the  Florentine  women,  "these  languid  women",  as  Pater 
calls  the  refined,  cultivated  feminine  grace  which  the  polished 
society  of  Florence  had  evolved,  with  a wealth  of  symbolical  ex- 
pression, "a  cryptic  language  for  fancies  all  his  own," 

The  finest  flower  of  his  genius,  revaling  this  peculiar  qua! « 
ity  in  him,  occurs  in  La  Gioconda.  And  in  the  passage  which  attempts 
to  enter  into  the  artist’s  mood  and  render  poetically  the  obscure 
message  buried  in  the  lady’s  enigmatic  smile  occurs  the  most  reveal- 
ing instance  of  Pater’s  subtle  genius.  The  tradition  of  the  descrip- 
tion is  so  firmly  grounded,  that  the  passage  may  be  rendered  without 
apology* 

"The  presence  that  thus  rose  so  strangely  beside  the 
waters  is  expressive  of  what  in  the  ways  of  a thousand 


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years  men  had  come  to  desire.  Kers  is  the  head  upon 
which  all  the  ends  of  the  world  are  come  and  the  eyelids 
are  a little  weary.  It  is  a beauty  wrought  out  from 
within  upon  the  flesh,  the  deposit,  little  cell  by  cell, 
of  strange  thoughts  and  fantastic  reveries  and  exquisite 
passions.  Set  it  for  a moment  beside  one  of  those  white 
Greek  goddesses  or  beautiful  women  of  antiquity,  and  how 
would  they  be  troubled  by  this  beauty,  into  which  the  soul 
with  all  its  maladies  has  passed!  All  the  thoughts  and 
experience  of  the  world  have  etched  and  moulded  there,  in 
that  which  they  have  of  power  to  refine  and  make  expres- 
sive the  outward  form,  the  animalism  of  Greece,  the  lust 
of  Rome,  the  reverie  of  the  middle  age  with  its  spiritual 
ambition  and  imaginative  loves,  the  return  of  the  Pagan 
world,  the  sins  of  the  Borgias.  She  is  older  than  the 
rocks  among  which  she  sits;  like  the  vampire  she  has  been 
dead  many  times,  and  learned  the  secrets  of  the  grave;  and 
has  been  a diver  in  deep  seas  and  keeps  their  fallen  day 
about  her;  and  trafficked  for  strange  webs  with  Eastern 
merchants;  and,  as  Leda,  was  the  mother  of  Helen  of  Troy, 
and  as  Saint  Anne,  the  mother  of  Mary;  and  all  this  has 
been  to  her  but  as  the  sound  of  lyres  and  flutes,  and 
lives  only  in  the  delicacy  with  which  it  has  moulded  the 
changing  lineaments,  and  tinged  the  eyelids  and  the  hands. 
The  fancy  of  a perpetual  life,  sweeping  together  ten  thou- 
sand experiences,  is  an  old  one;  and  modern  thought  has 
conceived  the  idea  of  humanity  as  wrought  upon  by  and 
summing  up  in  itself  all  modes  of  thought  and  life*  Cer- 
tainly  Lady  Lisa  might  stand  as  the  embodiment  of  the  old 


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fancy,  the  symbol  of  the  modern  idea," 

Voicing  the  patriotic  sentiment  which  he  possessed  to  a good 
healthful  degree,  Fater  reflected  in  the  "Poster  ipt"  to  Apprecia- 
tions upon  "the  contorted,  proportionless  accumulation  of  our  know- 
ledge and  experience,  our  science  and  history,  our  hopes  and  dis- 
illusion", all  of  which  needed  so  badly  to  be  set  in  order,  out  of 
which  some  harmony  should  be  produced  by  the  proper  manipulation  of 
the  instrument  most  readily  at  hand,  the  English  language,,  Fater 
9peaks  here  in  the  same  vein  as  in  the  "Essay  on  Style",  — "as  the 
French  write",  with  Flaubert  plainly  in  mind,  "as  scholars  should 
write",  a bit  of  special  pleading  for  his  own  stylistic  formulas,. 

But  first  he  is  lead  into  attempting  the  difficult  task  of 
fixing  and  differentiating  between  the  terms  classic  and  romantic* 

He  sets  out  realizing  that  they  are  tags,  convenient  labels  for  cer- 
tain peculiarities  of  substance  or  mood.  The  romantic  spirit  is 
characterized  by  a love  of  the  past,  with  the  emphasis  placed  strong- 
ly upon  the  intimately  human  side  of  history;  Walter  Scott’s  love  of 
strange  adventure  and  dominating  personality  in  history,  exemplified 
in  his  treatment  of  Richard  Coeur  de  Leon,  and  Maurice  Hewlett’s 
later  veriations  upon  the  same  theme.  As  a matter  of  principle,  it 
is  "the  addition  of  strangeness  to  beauty",  the  free,  exploring 
spirit  of  the  individual,  who,  being  a law  unto  himself .makes  and  un- 
makes artistic  law,  recognizing  no  other  arbiter  than  the  promptings 
of  his  own  aesthetic  conscience. 

In  brief,  Fater  asks  for  the  treatment  of  material  attractive 
to  the  romantic  spirit,  in  the  classic  manner.  It  is  a fantastic 
union  of  incompatible  elements,  idyllic,  speciously  convincing  as  he 
phrases  it,  yet  involving  certain  disaster,  as  Tennyson,  Browning, 
and  Swinburne  each  learned. 


.2  2- 


Pater  found  in  the  work  of  Pica  del  3 a Mirandola  the  express  ion 
of  a general  purpose  broadly  characteristic  of  the  fifteenth  century 
Italian  Renaissance,  whose  mission  it  was  to  reconcile  Christianity 
with  the  natural  charm  they  felt  in  the  early  pagan  Greek  worship, 
Pico  was  ’’one  of  the  last  who  seriously  and  sincerely  entertained  the 
claim  on  men’s  faith  of  the  pagan  religions,”  He  absorbed  without 
reservation  the  Platonic  cultus  of  his  time,  with  special  affinity 
for  the  mystical  elements  therein,  ”the  chilling  touch  of  the  ab. 
stract  and  disembodied  beauty  Platonists  profess  to  long  for,”  He 
scanned  sympathetically  and  minutely  the  legends  and  myths  of  the 
older  cosmogonies.  Yet  he  was  firmly  intrenched  in  the  philosophy  of 
the  School,  In  the  manner  characteristic  of  knight -errants  of  philo- 
sophy, he  offered  to  defend  nine  hundred  paradoxes  upon  his  first 
arrival  at  Rome,  and  he  died  in  the  habit  of  Saint  Dominic, 

The  writing  of  Pico  was  inspired  by  deep  emotion,  compounded 
of  a curious  blending  of  the  religious  and  artistic  sensibilities 
with  which  he  was  so  richly  endowed.  However  he  fell  short  of  com- 
plete attainment  of  his  ideal,  he  remains  a significant  figure,  at 
least,  of  the  upward  impulse  to  achieve,  in  a century  ” great  rather 
by  what  it  designed  to  do  or  aspired  to  do,  than  by  what  it  actually 
achieved,” 

Bx  forti  dul cedo  --  out  of  the  strong,  sweetness,  --Pater  took 
as  the  leitmotif  of  his  appreciation  of  the  poetical  quality  of 
Michelangelo’s  sculpture.  His  was  a lovely,  but  virile,  genius,  se- 
curing consummate  artistry  and  ideality  of  expression  by  a certain 
incompleteness  in  the  conception  of  its  subject.  And  his  verse  too 
follows  closely  in  its  ’’effort  to  tranquillize  and  sweeten  life  in 
idealizing  its  vehement  sentiments”,  the  latter  of  the  two  great  tra- 
ditional  types,  the  one  expressed  in  the  Vita  Nuova  of  Dante,  the 


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ion  of  Numa  had  lost  all  vitality*  They  amused  themselves  with  all 
phil osophies,  stoicism.  Platonism,  neopythagoreanism,  and  dialectics* 

But  it  was  remote  from  the  atmosphere  of  Rome,  at  White-nights 
"an  old  country-house,  half  farm,  half  villa,”  that  Marius  was  born, 
near  the  end  of  the  reign  of  Antoninus  Pius,  Marius  was  educated  de 
voutly  in  the  old  religion,  because  of  the  remoteness  of  the  villa 
from  the  decadent  thought  of  the  urban  centres,  and  perhaps  because 
of  a traditional  partly  sacerdotal  character  which  clung  to  the  male 
head  of  the  family,  and  which  Marius*  father  carefully  cherished. 

To  familiarity  with  the  ritual  and  symbolism  of  religion, 
Marius  joined  ”a  great  seriousness  --  an  impressibility  to  the  sacred 
ness  of  time,  of  life  and  its  events,  and  the  circumstances  of  family 
fellowship”,  all  of  which  became  the  sign  in  him  of  the  development 
far  beyond  the  ordinary  of  a sense  of  relitious  responsibility.  All 
this  filled  the  lad  with  a sense  of  reverence,  of  the  Hsacred  pre- 
sences” with  which  life  seemed  to  be  filled.  The  appeal  of  the 
religion  was  for  him  a strange  mingling  of  sensuousness  and  austerity 
---a  trait  which  he  carried  with  him  throughout  his  life,  and  one 
which  furnishes  us  with  the  true  key  to  his  nature.  He  was  at  once 
highly  intellectual,  deeply  religious,  and  strangely  susceptible  to 
sense-impressions,  as  all  aesthetic  natures  must  be.  The  motive  of 
his  3tory,  which  is, as  a story,  the  merest  thread  of  narrative,  is 
his  earnest  attempt  to  orient  himself  in  the  world,  to  find  a reli- 
gious or  philosophical  basis  upon  which  he  can  adjust  the  antagon- 
istic elements  in  his  nature, 

Marius  was,  of  course,  tremendously  self-conscious.  From  the 
first  time  he  began  to  think  and  observe,  he  fell  into  a practical, 
if  not  strictly  philosophic,  solipsism.  Reality  for  him  was  only 
that  which  he  found  within  himself,  and  his  keenest  observation  was 


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only  pointed  by  its  application  to  himself*  Marius  was,  most  in- 
tensely, an  individualist*  Raymond  Laurent  * f inds  that  in  Marius, 
"Le  probl  erne  qui, , , s * off  re  a nous  et  s e trouve  peu  ei  peu  resolu„  est 
1 e triomphe  de  1 * individual isme  sur  1 es  forces  ennemies  qui  1 * opp  - 
r iment0w 

When  Marius  had  attained  the  stature  of  "a  tall  school  boy" 
his  mother  died,  and  he  was  sent  to  Fisa  to  continue  his  education. 
Here  he  met  Flavian,  It  is  curious,  despite  the  romantic  tone  of 
the  book,  that  Marius  formed  so  few  attachments.  For  the  most  part, 
the  existence  of  his  fellows  was  shadowy,  unreal,  and  a matter  of 
slight  importance  to  him.  With  the  exception  of  Marius  himself,  the 
characters  are  little  better  than  lay  figures,  which  occupy  posi- 
tions of  more  or  less  prominence,  but  whose  definiteness  is  owing 
more  to  their  position  in  relation  to  the  centra]  figure,  than  to 
their  importance  in  their  own  character*  Here  we  come  upon  one  of 
Pater’s  most  definite  limitations  as  a literary  artist.  The  de- 
lineation of  Marius*  character,  a type  touched  with  the  subtle  and 
artful  charm  of  decadence  he  accomplished  with  exquisite  success, 
and  one  recognizes  it  from  the  most  cursory  reading  as  partly  auto- 
biographical, It  is  the  same  sympathy  in  the  creation  of  personal- 
ity which  he  infused  into  his  most  effective  descriptive  passages, 
in  which  he  painted  the  decaying  landscape  of  the  Roman  campagna; 

"Altho  the  great  plain  was  dying  steadily,  a new 
race  of  wild  birds  establishing  itself  there,  as 
he  knew  enough  of  their  habits  to  understand,  and 
the  idle  contadino  with  his  never-ending  ditty  of 
decay  and  death  replacing  the  lusty  Roman  labourer, 
never  had  that  poetic  region  between  Rome  and  the 


•^Raymond  Laurent.  Etudes  Anglaises.Par  is  . 1910.po180 


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sea  more  deeply  impressed  him  than  on  this  sunless 
day  of  early  autumn,  under  which  all  that  fell  with- 
in the  immense  horizon  was  presented  in  one  uniform 
tone  of  a clear,  penitential  blue.. .From  time  to  time, 
the  way  was  still  redolent  of  the  floral  relics  of  summer, 
daphne  and  myrtl e -bl ossom,  sheltered  in  the  little 
hollows  and  ravines.* * 

But  Pater  does  not  put  the  breath  of  life  in  a character  such  as 
Cornelius,  the  young  Roman  soldier  who  later  becomes  the  most  inti- 
mate friend  of  Marius#  He  is  blithe,  serene,  self -suff icient  and 
unquestioning,  and  utterly  unreal 0 Pater’s  description  of  Cornelius 
would  bear  the  same  relation  to  that  of  Marius,  one  feels,  as  his 
interpretation  of  the  atmosphere  of  the  Italian  country  of  the  time 
would  have  to  an  attempt  to  describe  a rural  America  of  hard  roads, 
tractors,  barbed  wire  fences,  red  barns,  tile  silos,  shiny  white 
houses,  and  scientific  farmers# 

Flavian,  with  whom  Marius  formed  the  first  of  his  two  friend- 
ships, was  three  years  Marius’  senior,  poor,  habitually  proud, 
brilliant  with  a somewhat  elegant  literary  drift,  and  a turn  for  what 
might  be  called  the  euphuism  of  life#  Flavian  was,  even  at  his  early 
age,  a sensualist,  and  it  was  in  his  friendship  with  Flavian  that 
Marius  made  his  first  intimate  contact  with  evil  in  seductive  guise# 
"How  often,  afterwards,  did  evil  things  present  them- 
selves in  malign  association  with  the  memory  of  that 
beautiful  head,  and  with  a kind  of  borrowed  sanction 
and  charm  in  its  natural  grace!" * 


♦ Marius  the  Bpicurean#  11.220-221. 
Ibid.  Ip.  57. 


-19 


But  Marius  remained  untouched  by  the  luxurious  influence  of  the  town, 
preserved  by  what  Mr.  A,  C.  Benson  called  ”a  certain  coldness  and 
fastidiousness  of  temperament”,  in  which,  perhaps,  the  religious  note 
was  significant. 

Marius  had  already  begun  to  develop.  The  same  meditative  turn 
of  mind  which  had  dominated  his  sensual  nature  was  exhibited  in  his 
attitude  toward  the  schoolboy  games  of  his  associates.  He  noted  their 
wholehearted  struggle  for  prizes  already  become  in  his  mind  trivial  0 
He  could  still  appreciate  the  heat  of  battle  and  the  joy  of  success- 
ful competition  sympathetically,  but  it  was  inconceivable  that  he 
should  enter  into  them  with  the  same  conpleteness.  He  was  viewing 
life  as  a drama,  or  procession.  Whatever  figure  of  speech  you  like, 
it  is  the  characteristic  attitude  of  mind  of  the  spectator. 

This  incipient  feeling  of  apartness  which  was  later  to  grow 
into  a fundamental  constituent  of  character,  was  accompanied  by  the 
first  intimations  of  Epicureanism. 

”He  was  acquiring  what  it  is  the  chief  function 
of  all  higher  education  to  impart,  the  art,  name- 
ly, of  so  relieving  the  ideal  or  poetic  traits, 
the  elements  of  distinction,  in  our  everyday  life-- 
of  so  exclusively  living  in  them--that  the  un- 
adorned remainder  of  it,  the  mere  drift  or  debris 
of  our  days,  comes  to  be  as  tho  it  were  not.”* 

Marius  and  Flavian  pursued  their  literary  training  together, 
an  important  incident  of  which  was  the  reading  of  the  ”Golden  Book” 
of  Apuleius,  containing  the  story  of  Cupid  and  Psyche.  However  im- 
portant the  occasion  was  in  stimulating  Marius,  it  is  of  considerably 
less  interest  to  one  who  wishes  to  follow  the  development  of  Marius’ 

* Ibid,  p . 57 . 


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characters  and  who  wou]d  be  wi.33i.ng  to  accept  his  successive  states 
of  mind  as  indicated,  without  the  offering  of  lengthy  evidence  in 
their  support*  The  fact  that  the  adaptation  in  the  hands  of  Pater  is 
very  fine3y  done8  scarce3y  atones  for  a break  of  fifty  pages  in  the 
narrative* 

Flavian  became  the  victim  of  a pesti3ence  which  the  army,  re- 
cent3y  returned  from  Parthia,  brought  with  it*  In  the  3ast  moments, 
the  ta3ent  of  Flavian  shone  most  brightly,  and  Marius  conceived  an 
ardent  admiration  for  the  “richness  of  imagery”  and  “firmness  of  out. 
3ine“  which  was  the  especial  quality  of  his  writing* 


“Flavian  was  no  more,*'  His  death  came  to  Marius  like  “a  final 
revelation  of  nothing  less  than  the  soul’s  extinction”,  and  marked 
the  end  of  Marius’  childish  religious  faith.  It  was  the  first  mile- 
stone on  his  soul’s  journey* 

After  this,  it  is  but  natural  that  we  find  Marius,  lacking  his 
only  intimate,  congenial  human  relationship,  turning  with  deep  passion 
to  the  life  of  reflection,  and  accepting  an  existence  of  detachment 
from  his  fellows  without  complaint*  It  was  the  sign  of  the  real 
budding  of  the  “high  Epicureanism”  which  found  “a  poetic  beauty  in 
mere  clearness  of  thought.” 

The  writings  of  Heraclitus  and  Aristippus  were  the  sources 
from  which  Marius  drew  strength  to  fortify  himself  in  his  new  posi. 
tion*  From  the  Heraclitean  cosmogony  Marius  learned  that  the  world 
is  a machine;  that  nature  is  in  a constant  state  of  flux,  of  constant 
mutation  and  qualitative  transformation*  What  was  most  important  of 
all,  he  came  to  believe  in  sensation  as  the  criterion  of  truth*  This 
doctrine  he  applied  empirically  and  faithfully,  and  reality,  when  re— 


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duced  to  the  experience  of  the  individual,  came  to  consist  for  him 
of  the  bital  and  significant  experience  which  was  his  own;  that  of 
all  others  vague,  because  vicarious.  He  learned  "that  the  individual 
is  to  himself  the  measure  of  all  things,  and  to  rely  on  the  exclusive 
certainty  to  himself  of  his  own  impressions” , This  might  and  did 
easily  become  the  theoretical  basis  for  a hedonistic  code  of  conduct,, 
A1 tho  Heraclitus  taught  that  ” tout  metaphysique  est  vaine  qui 
pretend  a expl  iquer  1 1 essenc e et  1 * etre"  *,  Marius  found  that  "ab- 
stract philosophy  became  with  Aristippus  a very  subtly  practical 
wordly -wisdom" . Abstract  metaphysics  held  not  only  possibilities  for 
the  individual  to  bewilder  himself  methodically,  but,  for  him  who 
holds  the  key  to  them,  to  become  translated  into  intelligent  conduct, 
with  a valuable  adjunct  in  the  way  of  possibilities  rich  in  senti- 
ment,, These  elements  drawn  from  Heraclitus  and  the  Cyrenian  philos- 
ophy joined  themselves  to  Marius’  natural  deftness  in  seeking  out 
and  fastening  upon  "the  ideal  or  poetic  traits"  of  life,  so  that  the 
measure  of  completeness  in  life  came  to  mean  for  him  the  finding  of 
"elements  of  distinction"  in  it,  and  the  conscious  cultivation  of  an 
attitude  of  obliviousness  to  its  "drift  or  debris", 

"Marius  cherche  une  doctrine,  pratique,  une 
cul ture,  une  education  destinee  a elargir  et 
aff iner  see  facul tes  receptives,  c est -a -dire 
1 e domaine  des  sensations  e t de  1 * emotion, 

Le  plaisir  n ’ est  pas  le  t erme  de  cette  phil  - 
osophie;  cel  1 e -ci  a pour  ideal  une  general 
completeness  of  life,  vie  dont  la  vie  est 
1 e but,  ou  t ous  I es  phenomene3  concourent, 

♦ Laurent.  p,194. 


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accord  auquel  r ien  ne  manque  de  £e  qui  exlste* 
sorte  de  mus igue  au  sens  platonicien  du  root” . * 

This  educative  culture,  the  highest  apprehension  of  his  sen- 
sations and  emotions,  together  with  a fulness  of  life  in  which  the 
emphasis  was  laid  upon  "aesthetic  charm"  and  "austerity  of  mind"  "be- 
came Marius*  chief  pursuit*  To  pass  most  swiftly  from  point  to 
point,  to  "be  present  always  at  the  focus  where  the  greatest  number 
of  vital  forces  unite  in  their  purest  enerty",  to  make  ecstacy,  "ex- 
quisite passion",  the  mark  of  the  successful  life,  became  the  creed 
of  "the  new  Cyrenaicism"  evolved  by  Marius*  It  is  the  very  essence 
of  the  philosophy  of  life  of  Pater  himself,  as  stated  in  the  famous 
"Conclusion"  in  The  Renaissance,  which  he  held  consistently  from  the 
beginning  to  the  end  of  his  career* 

With  the  Cyrenaic  creed  definitely  formulated,  Marius*  nature 
whose  dual  character  was  alluded  to  at  the  outset,  was  rounded  out* 

His  was  to  be  an  attitude,  consciously  assumed,  of  active  receptivity 
to  the  sensual  elements  in  life,  and  an  intell ectual iz ing  of  vivid 
sensation  into  "whatever  form  of  human  life  might  be  heroic,  im- 
passioned, ideal",  the  ideal  of  life  being  untouched  by  hedonism,  but 
aiming  rather  at  "a  general  completeness*" 

The  aim  being  a complete  life,  Marius  settled  upon  the  selec- 
tive principle  as  a working  program*  He  found  it  desirable  to  cherisb 
as  precious  all  intense  sensation,  "including  noble  pain  and  sorrow 
even",  and  to  discard  and  obliterate  the  rest  by  a deliberate  closing 
of  the  avenues  of  sense  to  life’s  debris.  The  result  was  the  develop- 
ment of  a fastidiousness  and  refinement  so  delicately  pointed  that  he 
gave  himself  up  wholeheartedly  to  the  cultivation  of  the  aesthetic  * 


♦ Laurent,  p*  194 


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-23- 

Marius  became  a person  temperament a] 1 y akin  to  the  honnete  homme  of 
the  age  de  3 a preciosit e whose  distinctive  quality  of  spirit  was  de- 
scribed by  Mere  with  brilliant  penetration  as  consisting  "princ i - 
pal ement  n*  avoir  pas  ce  j e ne  sais  quoi  de  nobl e et  d*  exquls  qui 
el  eve  un  honnete  homme  au  -dess us  d*  un  autre  honnete  homme . **  * 

After  having  formulated  the  creed  of  aestheticism  and  in- 
tensity of  sensation,  Fater  assumed  the  task  of  making  a place  for 
morality  in  it®  For  the  place  of  morality  is  not  immediately  per- 
ceived. To  one  bent  on  the  H impassioned  realization  of  experience” 
morality  may  appear  very  much  like  a convention  which  must  be  reso- 
lutely brushed  aside  in  the  quest  of  self-realization®  But  to 
Marius,  whom  we  can  scarcely  conceive  of  being  immoral,  but  who 
might  easily  have  fallen  into  an  attitude  that  was  non-moral,  the 
position  of  morality  in  the  aesthetic  philosophy  was  clearly  out- 
lined® In  a life  whose  ultimate  happiness  is  based  upon  a Mpleasure 
and  the  good  which  come  from  the  fair  adornment  of  life  itself”  the 
absence  of  a moral  code  would  be  a kind  of  incompl eteness,  and  in- 
completeness an  imperfection®  Pater* s insight  failed  to  discover 
to  him,  as  Mr.  Robert  Shafer  * has  pointed  out,  that  the  purely  aes- 
thetic appeal  for  morality  and  religion  is  in  effect  the  most  in- 
sidious attack  upon  it.  For  in  such  instances,  both  morality  and 
religion  become  the  handmaidens  of  a philosophy  or  cult,  and 
Philosophy  invariably  betrays  Morality® 


♦ Mere*  Lettre  a Mme®  la  Duchesse  de  Lesdiguieres,  Lanson£ 
Lettres  du  XVII  siecl e.  p.150,153.  quoted  Histoire 
ill  us tree  de  la  Litterature  Francaise.  Paris,  1918.  by 
k*  Abry;  C.AuHTo;  P.Crouzet.  p.  138. 

Robert  Shafer.  Walter  Pater  Redivivus.  Reprinted  from 
The  Open  Court.  April,  1920,  p.  8-9. 


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-24- 

At  the  end  of  his  career,  Marius  was  to  experience  such  a re- 
crudescence of  his  religious  instincts,  as  he  now  held  in  framing 
his  apology  for  moral s„  Throughout  his  life,  from  the  time  he  aban- 
doned the  old  traditional  religion  and  set  sail  on  the  sea  of  philo- 
sophy, Marius  never  succeeded  in  divorcing  himself  from  his  intense 
subjectivity.  The  frequent  use  of  the  word  "mused”  indicates  his 
reaction  to  his  experiences*  He  recollected  in  tranquility  the  sen- 
sations and  ideas  of  the  past,  turned  them  over  and  examined  them 
idly,  with  an  interest  that  was  casual  and  dilettante,  but  unflagging 
When  his  later  observations  among  the  Christians  at  Cecilia’s  house 
reawakened  his  early  susceptibility  to  emotional  religious  exper- 
ience, the  conversion  was  never  more  actual  than  a graceful  response 
to  the  aesthetic  qualities  of  the  new  rel ition --the  mystery  of  the 
Host,  the  sacerdotal  air  of  the  white-robed  bishop,  the  happy  faces 
of  worshippers,  and  stifled  sobs  of  penitents,  the  element  of  novelty 
in  a faith  based  upon  a vaguely  apprehended  Hebrew  cosmogony,  and 
filled  with  a buoyant  hope  that  blew  with  stimulating,  exhilarating 
freshness  across  an  age  weary  of  hard  speculation,  and  sophisticated 
thought. 

We  find  Marius,  nineteen  years  old,  eminently  the  Epicurean, 
at  court,  attached  to  the  person  of  the  emperor  in  the  capacity  of 
amanuensis.  The  day  after  Marius’  arrival  in  Rome,  the  emperor  re- 
turned triumphant] y from  a bloodless  campaign  on  the  Danube.  The 
emperor  is  described  sympathetically,  with  the  purpose  in  view  of 
bringing  out  the  intimate,  personal  element  in  a character  whose 
moral  virtue,  stoical  philosophy,  and  imperial  tolerance  history  has 
fully  treated,  but  whose  essential  humanity  has  seldom  been  given 
such  a kindly  touch  as  Pater’s. 


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-25- 

Marius  first  saw  Marcus  Aurelius  in  the  triumphal  procession. 
He  saw  a man  about  forty-five  years  old;  "with  prominent  eyes --eyes 
which,  although  demurely  downcast  during  this  essentially  religious 
ceremony,  were  by  nature  broadly  and  benignantly  observant;”  hair 
brown  and  Clustering  thickly";  a brow  "low,  broad  and  cl  ear.., the 
brow  of  one  who,  amid  the  blindness  of  perplexity  of  the  people 
about  him,  \uider stood  all  things  clearly". 

The  outward  serenity  of  the  emperor,  mottled  from  time  to 
time,  it  seemed  to  Marius,  by  the  passing  shadow  of  some  unguessed 
cloud  upon  the  spirit,  strengthened  the  feeling  of  asceticism  which 
the  spareness  of  the  emperor’s  body  gave  him.  The  interview  which 
followed  sometime  afterward,  in  which  Marius  was  introduced  to  the 
emperor,  left  him  with  his  first  impressions  of  Aurelius,  amplified 
and  intensified.  At  this  time  he  also  met  the  empress  Faustina, -- 
a mysterious,  enigmatic,  curiosity -stimulating  beauty,  about  whom 
all  Rome  gabbled,  and  whose  beauty  and  "license  of  gaze"  occupied 
his  mind  for  some  time. 

Some  months  later  Marius,  together  with  Aurelius,  Faustina, 

"a  crowd  of  exquisites",  and  all  the  fashionable  people  who  found 
the  cultivation  of  philosophy  pleasant  and  profitable,  assembled  at 
the  temple  of  Peace  to  hear  Marcus  Cornelius  Fronto  discourse  on  the 
Nature  of  Moral s.  in  which  Fronto  was  to  recommend  morality  to  the 
company  according  to  the  doctrine  of  Stoicism. 

Marius  was,  at  this  time,  still  possessed  with  the  desire  to 
taste  all  the  experiences  of  life  with  intense  ecstacy.  We  can 
imagine  him  in  these  days  breaking  off  the  chain  of  his  reflections 
and  apostrophizing  Life  in  the  words  of  Stevenson’s  Wil 1 0/  the 
Mill ; 


t 


* 


t 


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-26 


’"You  would  not  have  me  die  like  a dog  and  not 
see  all  that  is  to  "be  seen,  and  do  all  that  a 
man  can  do,  let  it  he  good  or  evil?  You  would 
not  have  me  spend  all  my  days  between  this  road 
here  and  the  river,  and  not  so  much  as  make  a 
motion  to  be  up  and  live  my  own  life?"* 

Yet  too,  as  was  indicated  above,  * Marius  was  concerned  with 
the  disposal  of  his  moral  code*  Tho  he  had  yielded  up  his  religious 
faith  upon  attaining  his  intellectual  majority,  he  clung  tenaciously 
to  the  moral  regiment  which  his  own  strong  ethical  bent  demanded,, 

Now  as  he  came  under  the  influence  of  the  stoic  philosophy  in  prox- 
imity to  the  emperor  and  old  Front  o,  he  was  wavering  somewhat  in  the 
pursuit  of  intensity.  -As  he  inclined  more  and  more  to  the  stoic 
position,  he  began  to  see--and  in  the  discourse  of  old  Fronto,  the 
seeing  became  clearer--how  the  old  morality  might  be  reconciled  to 
the  new  philosophy,  the  avenue  of  escape  being  a "kind  of  artistic 
order  in  life”  by  which  moral ity,  or  at  least  practical  rectitude* 
would  receive  the  sanction  of  custom,  and  of  good  taste0 

At  this  point  Pater  introduces  his  own  criticism  of  the 
Cyrenaic  view  of  life; 

"And  we  may  note,  as  Marius  could  hardly  have  done, 
that  Cyrenaic ism  is  ever  the  characteristic  philo- 
sophy of  youth,  ardent,  but  narrow  in  its  survey-- 
sincere,  but  apt  to  become  one-sided,  or  even 
fanatical.  It  is  one  of  those  subjective  and  par- 
tial ideals,  based  on  vivid,  because  limited,  appre- 
hension of  the  truth  of  one  aspect  of  experience 
(in  this  case,  of  the  beauty  of  the  world,  and  the 


» p.9 


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-27. 


brevity  of  man’s  life  there)  which  it  may  be 
said  to  be  the  special  vocation  of  the  young 
to  egress/  * 

The  precise  way  in  which  the  philosophy  of  Cyrenaicism  was  costly 
to  him  did  not  appeal  immediately  to  Marius  in  any  such  way  as  it 
appears  in  the  clear  exposition  which  Pater  gave  it*  But  he  did 
come  to  detect  "some  craming,  narrowing,  costly,  preference  of  one 
part  of  his  own  nature”  and  that  he  "paid  a great  price”  for  such  a 
life  "in  the  sacrifice  of  a thousand  sympathies.” 

While  conscious  of  an  active  dissatisfaction  with  a life 
which  he  felt  lacked  breadth,  Marius  again  visited  the  emperor. 
Aurelius  had  just  determined  to  sell  the  treasures  of  the  imperial 
household  at  auction  in  order  to  obtain  funds  to  prosecute  the  war. 
Marius  finds  him,  as  Benson  says,  feeling  "an  austere  joy  in  the 
pleasure  of  a deep  philosophical  detachment  from  the  world”.  Be» 
cause  of  his  temperamental  sensitiveness  to  the  psychical  states  of 
others,  sharpened,  as  it  was,  by  the  state  of  mind  he  was  in,  Marius 
could  not  but  feel  himself  tremendously  impressed  by  the  joy  which 
the  emperor  felt  in  renunciation,  which  he  realized  readily  enough, 
was  of  a higher  and  deeper  quality  than  the  purest  Epicurean  delight 
he  might  have  experienced  in  their  continued  possession. 

Marius*  personal  relationship  with  the  emperor  came  to  an 
abrupt  and  poignantly  tragic  end.  Cn  an  official  visit  to  Praenestp, 
a favorite  rural  retreat  of  Aurelius*,  he  found  the  imperial  resi. 
dence  prostrated  with  grief  because  of  an  incurable  illness  which 
had  seized  the  child  Annius  Verus.  By  an  inadvertent  trespass  on 
the  privacy  of  the  emperor’s  grief,  he  saw  him  carry  the  dying  child 
away  "pressed  close  to  his  bosom,  as  if  he  yearned  just  then  for  one 
thing  only,  to  be  united,  to  be  absolutely  one  with  it,  in  its  ob- 


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-28 


scure  distress.1’ 

A short  time  later  he  saw  Aurelius  depart  for  the  war,  ”to 
make  public  rule  nothing  less  than  a sacrifice  of  himself  according 
to  Plato’s  requirement,  now  consummated  in  his  setting  forth  for  the 
campaign  on  the  Danube.” 

Several  years  are  supposed  to  have  passed*  Marius  was  attend- 
ing a notable  banquet  at  which  both  the  young  Commodus  and  the  great 
Apuleius  were  present*  Marius  engaged  Apuleius  in  conversation  on 
the  terrace  after  the  banquet  had  broken  up*  Apuleius  was  a Platon- 
ist,  but  one  who  made  pretensions  to  ” ideal  vision”,  and  drew  from 
his  lively  interest  in  the  outward  world  (his  extraordinary  personal 
history  had  been  one  which  exhibited  ideally  the  life  of  passing 
from  point  to  point  to  reach  centres  of  intensity)  a peculiar  con- 
ception of  the  Platonic  Idea* 

Apuleius  revealed  to  Marius  his  belief  in  a middle  order  of 
beings  midway  between  the  gods  and  men,  ’’through  whom  our  aspirations 
are  conveyed  to  the  gods,  and  theirs  to  us”.  It  is,  in  brief,  angel - 
ology*  This  view  of  the  world  brought  to  him  very  nearly  a heighten- 
ed feeling  of  the  loneliness  of  the  actual  world.  Yet  for  all  the 
appeal  of  such  fantastic  visions  to  his  nature,  Marius  felt  that  he 
must  cling  to  the  world  of  sense,  ”must  still  hold  by  what  his  eyes 
really  saw.” 

While  the  ideas  he  gained  from  Apuleius  were  still  vivid,  he 
visited  with  Cornelius,  a Roman  knight  whom  he  had  met  on  his  first 
journey  to  Rome,  and  with  whom  he  had  contracted  a friendship  deeper 
than  any  other  attachment  he  ever  experienced,  the  house  of  Cecilia, 
a Christian,  and  friend  of  the  latter,  whom  Marius  suspected  of  beiig 
a strong  influence  in  preserving  the  freshness  and  strength  and  sim- 
plicity of  character  which  he  marvelled  at  in  Cornelius* 


. 

, 

. 

* 


* 

' 

< 

c * < 

* 

< 

« 

. 

■ : 

, 

« 

, 


-29- 


The  house  of  Cecilia  revived  in  Marius  to  an  overwhelming  de- 
gree certain  of  his  early  r ecol 3 ec tions,  He  experienced  again  the 
serious  joy  he  had  conceived  in  places  especially  sympathetic  to  his 
emotional  nature,  the  hieratic  significance  which  he  attached  to  the 
singing  of  children,  to  the  thought  of  virtuous  women,  and  ’’all  the 
various  affections  of  family  life  under  its  most  natural  conditions,” 
Marius  investigated  an  old  garden  in  the  rear  of  the  house, 
anc  came  upon  the  burying  place  of  the  Cecil ii  which  Cecilia  had  de- 
voted to  the  Christian  cause,  and  which  was  rapidly  becomingHa  vast 
necropolis”.  There  was  a special  appeal  for  Marius  in  the  fact  that 
these  people,  contrary  to  the  current  pagan  custom  of  burning  the 
bodies  of  the  deceased  and  preserving  the  ashes  in  elaborate  urns, 
faithfully  preserved  the  whole  body,  as  though  fearful  of  the  com- 
plete dissolution  of  the  material  body,  and,  perhaps,  sensible  of 
"some  peculiar  feeling  of  hope  they  entertained  concerning  the  body”. 
Indeed,  it  seemed  to  Marius  that  the  ideal  of  hope  had  become  almost 
what  might  be  called  the  motif  of  the  tomb.  He  found  it  in  the  in- 
scriptions which  he  noticed  carefully; 

” Januarius,  Agapetus.  ffel icitas;  Martyrs! 
refresh,  pray  you,  the  soul  of  Cecil , 
of  Cornel iusj 

in  the  placing  of  favorite  toys  beside  the  graves  of  children;  in  the 
consolations  of  the  martyrs’  graves.  There  was  a mystical  appeal  in 
this ”strange  new  hope”  which  played  movingly  upon  his  sensuous  nature, 
so  heavily  weighed  down  with  Wei tschmerz 0 In  this  case,  his  stern 
decidion,  the  intellectual  exigency  by  which  he  demanded  of  himself 
that  he  confine  himself  to  his  empirical  philosophy,  was  relaxed,  and 
the  memory  of  his  mystical  experience,  unexplained,  and  amounting  al  - 
most  to  intuition,  he  carried  over  into  his  emotional  life,  and 


-30- 

germinated  "a  new  element  therein,  with  which,  consistently  with  his 
own  chosen  maxim,  he  must  make  terms,” 

It  was  the  genius  of  the  Christianity  of  the  time,  as  Pater 
saw  it  that 

"the  church  was  true  for  a moment,  truer,  perhaps, 
than  she  would  ever  toe  again,  to  that  element  of 
profound  serenity  in  the  soul  of  her  Pounder  which 
reflected  the  eternal  good-will  of  God  to  man,  'in 
whom’  according  to  the  oldest  version  of  the  ang- 
elic message,  ’He  is  wel 1 -pi  eased’ ** „ * 

Marius  sensed  in  it  the  urtoane  ideal  of  culture,  of  defining  the 
path  of  humanism.  Abandoning  the  fanaticism  of  its  earlier  and  more 
tempestuous  days,  the  Roman  Church  had  already  reached  a maturity 
which  was  reflected  in  a more  graceful  and  less  ascetic  faith  which 
permitted  the  flourishing  of  the  very  ideal  which  Marius  had  come  to 
cherish  since  he  abandoned  Cyrenaicism  with  its  suppression  of  "a 
thousand  sympathies" --the  ideal  of  the  "harmonious  development  of 
all  parts  of  human  nature,  in  just  proportion  to  each  other," 

Mr,  Paul  Elmer  More,  of  an  austere  mind  which  makes  him  not 
the  most  sympathetic  critic  of  Pater,  believes  the  Christianity  of, 
Montanism  is  nearer  the  real  Christianity  of  the  second  century  than 
"the  sweet  volup tousness  of  religion  as  it  appeared  to  Marius" • ** 

It  is  better  for  one  unversed  in  ecclesiastical  history,  it  appears 
to  me,  to  dodge  the  question  at  issue,  than  to  attempt  an  interpre- 
tation of  the  spirit  of  Christianity  in  200  A,D,  Whether  Pater  was 
wrong  in  his  interpretation  of  history  or  no,  certain  it  is  that 
there  is  no  anachronism  in  the  serenity  and  urbanity  of  the  spirit 

* Ibid.  II  p«l 26. 

*♦  Paul  K,  More,  The  Drift  of  Romanticism,  N.Y.1913,  p«95, 


-31 


of  the  Church  as  viewed  through  Marius*  temperament*  And  if  there 
were  discordant  currents  in  the  religion  of  the  times,  it  is  "but 
natural  that  Marius,  romantic  and  intensely  subjective,  should  see 
the  Church  standing  as  a symbol  for  commen-sense,  fairness,  and 
naturalness,  and  the  bishops  of  Rome,  with  a catholicity  transcend- 
ing dogma,  defining  the  true  path  of  humanism, 

Marius  went,  one  early  morning  to  the  villa  of  Cecilia  in 
search  of  Cornelius,  and  became  a witness  of  the  celebration  of  the 
Eucharist,  The  experience  satisfied  his  passion  for  worship  as  it 
had  never  been  satisfied  before.  The  whole  atmosphere  of  the  cere- 
mony,  so  far  as  it  concerned  Marius,  was  saturated  in  the  romantic 
glow  of  ritual,  liturgy,  mysticism.  The  character  of  the  pontiff 
was  composed  of  ”the  expression,  the  manner  and  voice,... as  he  took 
his  seat  on  the  white  chair...”  The  long  staff,  badge  of  his  office, 
seemed  to  exert  a strange  mesmeric  power  over  the  imagination  of 
Marius, ~«and  the  moving  hands,  ”hands  which  seemed  endowed  in  very 
deed  with  some  mysterious  power”,  seemed  to  fascinate  him  with  their 
languid  gesture.  And  he  observed  ecstatically  the  Hchanting  in 
cadence  of  a grave  sweetness  the  leading  parts  of  the  rite.  What 
profound  unction  and  mysticityl” 

What  a profound  distillation  of  the  essence  of  Paterisra,  one 
might  remark.  The  ’’passion  for  worship”  satisfied  in  Marius  was 
more  sensuous,  exquisitely  attenuated,  than  any  religious  faith--a 
conscious,  artistic  refinement  of  emotion  finely  drawn  and  aesthet - 
icised,  a temperament  pursuing  its  own  shadow  in  the  purlieus  of 
Gethsemane« 

Indeed,  one  feels  that  it  would  not  be  far  wrong  to  say  that 
the  humanism  of  the  Roman  Church  militant,  the  urbane  catholicity 
of  her  adherents,  as  Pater  represented  them,  were  not  so  much  the 


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sign  of  the  times  as  of  Pater’s  own  insurmountabl e subjectivity.  The 
aesthetic  romanticism  of  the  bi ithe  bishops  arose,  as  a matter  of 
fact,  from  the  same  cult  of  cheer  as  that  which  was  to  produce  twenty 
years  later  the  facilely  philosophical,  blithe  pagan  in  evening 
clothes. 


At  this  point  a long  dialogue  is  introduced  between  Lucian* 
the  satirist,  and  young  Hermotimus,  Like  the  adaptation  from 
Apuleius’  Gol den  Book  it  is  a rare  piece  of  literature  in  itself, 
but  it  frays  badly  the  slender  thread  of  the  narrative,  Hermotimus 
is  an  enthusiastic  young  student  of  philosophy,  earnest,  blushing, 
modestly  ingenu.  The  substance  of  the  dialogue  is  made  up  of  PI  a- 
tonic  philosophy,  interpreted  by  Pater,  and  the  upshot  of  the  talk 
is  "that  the  adoption  of  any  form  of  philosophic  belief  is  dictated 
by  a preference  and  an  instinct  in  the  disciple," 

There  follow  a series  of  incidents  which  Marius  had  recorded 
in  his  diary,  all  of  which  were  designed  to  play  upon  theemotions  of 
pity  and  sympathy;  a wounded  racehorse  lead  to  slaughter,  a young 
peasant  woman  and  her  husband  bringing  a toil-worn  and  broken  old 
mother  to  a house  provided  for  afflicted  people,  a delicate  child 
bathed  in  the  dust  of  a brick  furnace,  "regarding  wistfully  his  own 
place  in  the  world,  there  before  him",  a little  girl  playing  blithe- 
ly with  her  hopelessly  crippled  brother,  happily  unaware  of  the 
tragedy  which  must  enter  their  lives  when  lovers  come  for  her,  while 
the  even  monotony  of  his  existence  drags  dully  on.  In  reviewing 
such  incidents  ad  these,  Marius  finds  that  he  has  failed  in  love  and 
human  charity  in  shutting  himself  into  a life  of  meditation,  "I 
would  that  a stronger  love  might  arise  in  my  heartl",  he  cries. 

It  is  intimated  at  various  points  that  Marius  cherished  a 
more  than  brotherly  love  for  Cecilia,  Yet  he  kept  his  passion  re- 


. 

, 

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markably  well  curbed: 

"It  had  always  been  his  policy,  through  all  his 
pursuit  of ’experience’ , to  take  flight  in  time 
from  any  too  disturbing  passion,  from  any  sort 
of  affection  likely  to  quicken  his  pulses  be- 
yond the  point  at  which  the  quiet  work  of  1 if e 
was  practicable,"* 

It  is  fortunate  for  the  lady  that  she  entertained  no  recipro- 
cal affection.  It  would  surely  have  seemed  to  her  that  he  was  al- 
most too  much  the  master  of  his  turbulent  emotions  I As  a matter  of 
fact,  one  feels  that  there  is  something  lacking  in  a man  so  well 
disciplined.  Such  calm  sureness  is  not  far  removed  from  complacency 
and  smugness,  Marius  managed  to  attain  a kind  of  detachment,  in 
which  he  could  view  his  own  emotion  objectively.  It  became  for  him 
a thing  delicately  touched  with  poetry,  whose  ebb  and  flow  he  could 
watch  with  the  exquisite  pleasure  of  a connoiseur,  like  "another 
man’s  story,  or  a picture  on  the  wall". 

The  following  spring  Marius  ventured  to  hear  the  Easter  cere- 
monies, at  which  were  read  the  "Epistle  of  the  churches  of  Lyons  and 
Vienne",  They  told  of  persecutions  and  martyrdoms,  instigated  by 
Mar<iu3  Aurelius, 

The  impression  that  he  had  gained  before,  that  the  new  relig- 
ion seesmed  to  breathe  a new  daring  hope,  was  again  borne  upon  him. 
Indeed,  such  was  its  buoyancy,  that  it  seemed  to  attain  its  greatest 
effulgence  in  the  presence  of  death,  and  in  a high  solemn  ecstacy 
transcend  the  mysterious  passage  from  this  world  to  the  next, 

Marius  saw  the  emperor’s  return  to  Rome  from  the  northern 
wars,  with  a great  crowd  of  captives,  much  plunder,  and  various  pic- 


* Marius.  II.  p,206. 


( 


-34 


turesque  examples  of  the  fauna  of  the  German  forests.  Marius  thought 
of  the  procession  as  revealing  the  same  old  program  to  which  the 
human  drama  had  always  adhered;  the  mediocrity  of  people,  and  the 
vulgarity,  rapacity,  and  lust  for  spoilage  of  men  and  nations.  His 
reaction  to  the  florid  procession  was  so  intense  that  ”Aurel ius  him. 
self  seemed  to  have  undergone  the  world’s  coinage,  and  fallen  to  the 
level  of  his  reward,  in  a mediocrity  no  longer  golden”. 

He  set  out  for  his  old  home  immediately,  vaguely  depressed 
with  the  thought  that  he  wa9  the  last  of  his  race!  Peeling  that  no 
one  would  ever  approach  the  spot  sacred  to  his  dead  in  quite  the 
same  spirit  of  high  reverence  that  was  his,  he  opened  the  family 
mausoleum,  and  "buried  the  family  remains  so  that  the  memory  should 
be  only  his,  and  ’’would  claim  no  sentiment  from  the  indifferent.” 

For  the  rest  of  the  history  of  Marius  the  narrative  takes  on 
a dramatic  quality*  The  end  comes  abruptly,  Marius  and  Cornelius 
are  pursuing  a leisurely  journey  toward  Rome,  An  earthquake  shakes 
severely  a village  in  which  they  are  staying  overnight*  The  sus- 
picion of  the  inhabitants  is  turned  upon  the  Christians  as  having 
called  down  the  wrath  of  the  gods  upon  them.  A melee  follows  in 
which  both  Marius  and  Cornelius  are  taken  prisoner.  Marius  promptly 
takes  advantage  of  the  venality  of  the  guards  to  procure  the  release 
of  Cornelius  whom  he  sends  on  ahead  to  make  arrangements  for  his  de- 
fense. It  i9  a thoroughly  generous  action.  He  knows  well  that  in 
remaining  he  is  exposing  himself  to  discomfort,  danger,  possibly 
death.  And  not  the  least  of  his  pleasures  in  the  days  that  ensue  is 
the  wistful  joy  of  contemplating  the  robust  moral  courage  of  the  act. 

It  was  the  time  of  the  autumnal  equinox.  The  slow  journey 


toward  Rome  was  accomplished  under  repeated  drenchings.  The  exposure, 
the  rough  food,  and  the  utter  weariness  of  the  journey  made  their 


-35- 


impression  upon  the  somewhat  frail  physique  of  Marius,  and  on  the 
fifth  day  the  soldiers,  unwilling  to  be  hampered  by  a prisoner  who 
appeared  to  be  about  to  die,  left  him  in  the  kindly  hands  of  some 
amiable  country  folk. 

Here  in  a lowly  hut  he  lay,  alternately  racked  by  fever,  and 
cheered  by  a strange  rejuvenation  of  his  faculties,,  It  was  the 
eerie,  febrile  sharpness  of  perception  whose  import  is  most  ominous, 
that  last  bright  flare-up  of  the  life -force.  With  a strange  agility 
of  mind,  and  with  unusual  clarity,  Marius  retraced  the  path  of  his 
spiritual  quest,  coupled  with  the  intuitive  perception  of  “the 
scattered  fragments  of  a poetry,  till  then  but  ha 1 f -understood” , 
which  “might  be  taken  up  into  the  text  of  a lost  epic,  recovered  at 
last,” 

“At  this  moment,  his  unclouded  receptivity  of  soul, 
grown  steadily  through  all  those  years,  from  ex- 
perience to  experience,  was  at  its  height;  the  house 
ready  for  the  possible  guest;  the  tablet  of  the  mind 
white  and  smooth  for  whatsoever  divine  fingers  might 
choose  to  write  there.  And  was  not  this  precisely 
the  condition,  the  attitude  of  mind,  to  which  some- 
thing higher  than  he,  yet  akin  to  him,  would  be 
likely  to  reveal  itself;  to  which  that  influence  he 
had  felt  now  and  again,  like  a friendly  hand  upon 
his  shoulder  amid  the  actual  obscurities  of  the 
world,  would  be  likely  to  make  a further  explana- 
tion? Surely,  the  aim  of  a true  philosophy  must  lie, 
not  in  futile  efforts  towards  the  complete  accommoda- 
tion of  man  to  the  circumstances  in  which  he  chances 
to  find  himself,  but  in  the  maintenance  of  a kind  of 


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-36 


candid  discontent,  in  the  face  of  the  very  highest 
achievement,  the  unclouded  and  receptive  soul 
quitting  the  world  finally,  with  the  same  fresh 
wonder  with  uhich  it  had  entered  the  world  still  un- 
impaired, and  going  on  its  blind  way  at  last  with  the 
consciousness  of  some  profound  enigma  in  things,  as 
but  a pledge  of  something  further  to  come.  Marius 
seemed  to  understand  how  one  might  look  back  upon 
life  here,  and  its  excellent  visions,  as  but  the  por. 
tion  of  a racecourse  left  behind  him  by  a runner  still 
swift  of  foot;  for  a moment,  he  experienced  a singular 
curiosity,  almost  a desire  to  enter  upon  a future,  the 
possibilities  of  which  seemed  so  large.”# 

The  quotation  is  lengthy,  but  important*  It  indicates  the 
final  position  reached  by  Marius*  Like  a second  Moses,  he  was  given 
just  a fleeting,  distant  glimpse  into  the  promised  land.  He  sank 
into  weariness  in  which  impressions  came  to  him  intermittently  and 
hazily*  In  this  gentle  way  he  died,  while  the  people  gathered 
around  his  bed  and  applied  reverently  the  sacrament  of  Extreme 
Unction,  ’’holding  his  death,  according  to  their  generous  views  in 
this  matter,  to  have  been  of  the  nature  of  a martyrdom,  and  martyr- 
dom, as  the  church  had  always  said,  a kind  of  sacrament  with  plenary 
grace. ” 

The  abrupt  inconclusive  ending  of  a quest  pursued  so  faith, 
fully  holds  something  deeply  tragic  in  it,  as  M*  Laurent  saw  as  he 
wrote  of  Marius*  death; 

”Ainsi  disparait  sana  f oi  definitive  sans  souvenir 
meme  d*  avoir  poasede  fj amais  la  ver  ite.  1 * ombre  que 
» Marius. II*  pp* 243 -242. 


-37 


fut  Marius  sur  3 a terre . Son  evolution  avait  ete 
tout  interieure,  remarque -t -il  un  j our  avec  tris- 
tesse.  Sa  vie  s 1 etait  ecoul ee  a prendre  des 
attitudes  a s£  fixer,  a voul oir  desesperement 
s 1 attacher.  et  3 e rnonde.  plus  fort,  avait  t out 
entraine  dans  son  t curbil 1 on. w * 

Through  all  his  life,  Marius  felt  the  two  dominant  strains  of  his 
nature  at  war  within  him;  an  exquisite  love  for  corporeal  beauty, 
and  a high  sensitivity  to  the  aesthetic  appeal  of  ecclesiastical 
symbol  and  the  dogma  of  theology.  As  Edmund  Gosse  said  of  his 
author.  Pater;  MHe  was  not  all  for  Apollo,  nor  all  for  Christ.” 
There  are  certain  disadvantages  to  be  observed  in  the  ex- 
cessive finish  of  Pater’s  style.  The  periods  are  long-drawn  and 
harmonious,  but  lacking  the  vigor  and  incisiveness  often  found  in 
the  very  roughness  of  less  carefully  manipulated  work.  In  the  ex- 
cessive polish  there  is  often  to  be  detected  a languor,  a faintness 
and  softness  which  falls  unwelcome  on  the  alien  ear,  a cloudiness 
of  outline  that  is  not  merely  stylistic,  but  inherent  in  the  roman  - 
tic,  poetical  temperament  of  Pater. 

Take,  for  example,  an  excerpt  from  Marius’  diary; 

"How  little  I myself  really  need,  when  people  leave 
me  alone,  with  the  intellectual  powers  at  work  serene- 
ly. The  drops  of  falling  water,  a few  wild  flowers 
with  their  priceless  fragrance,  a few  tufts  even  of 
half -dead  leaves,  changing  color  in  the  quiet  of  a 
room  that  has  but  light  and  shadow  in  it;  these,  for 
a susceptible  mind,  might  well  do  duty  for  all  the 
glory  of  Augustus.”** 


* Laurent,  p.204 

*»  Mar  ius.  II -o.  198 


-38 


This  suggests  to  mind  the  wan  Mr.  Rose  of  Mallock’s  New  Repub  1 ic 
who  remarked  "when  I go  to  ugly  houses,  I often  take  a scrap  of  some 
artistic  cretonne  with  me  in  my  pocker  as  a kind  of  aesthetic  smell- 
ing salts,”  and  whose  imagination  was  all  compact  of  Laconian 
maidens  dancing  in  white  tulle,  ruined  temples,  rainbows,  the  lust 
of  Rome,  the  poisonous  secrets  of  the  Italian  Renaissance,  and  the 
pleasant  shimmering  of  white  limbs  in  clear  water.  In  this  direc- 
tion lie  "mistresses  and  pythons,  cameos  and  sphinxes,” 

Yet  despite  the  "sort  of  golden  haze  of  pensive  light"  in 
which  Marius  moves,  a haze  insisted  upon  in  the  frequent  introduc- 
tion of  a conventional  phrase  indicative  of  Marius*  "musing"  such  as 
’As  he  viewed  the  experience  in  reprospect,  it  seemed  to  Marius’, 
and  ’As  he  looked  back  upon  his  impressions,  Marius  found  himself’, 
there  is  a wealth  of  concrete  detail  in  the  book.  If  it  is  unreal, 
it  has  at  the  same  time,  an  air  of  verity  in  its  intimate,  accurate, 
and  sensitive  descriptions  of  nature,  and  the  faithful  arrangement 
of  archeological  elements.  Pater  had  a certain  trick  of  writing 
vividly  of  things  he  had  never  seen,  or  had  but  glanced  at,  "He  was 
alwfeys  at  his  best  when  he  was  amplifying  slender  hints,  and 
recollected  glimpses." 

Yet  Pater  was  not  a great  creative  artist.  Even  though  one 
gives  the  admission  a wide  and  generous  scope  that  criticism  of 
Marius  which  points  out  what  it  is  not,  points  out  simultaneously 
what  it  Is  not  supposed  to  be,  and  that  in  its  attainment  of  the 
end  in  view  it  is  a monument  of  literature,  there  is  no  escaping 
M,  Laurent’s  remark  in  this  connection: 

"On  aura it  pu  croire  que  Pater,  mis  in  c ontact 
avec  tant  de  richesses  artistiques  et  tant  d’ 

— —I  •»  ■!  m m ■■  nm  a— or  -mm  n m • m — m m<  mmt 

invent  ion,  a son  tour  creerait  des  contes  Bab- 


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-39- 


ul oux  ou  des  drames. n 
He  adds  significantly,  •’ll,  n*  en  fut  rien 


. 


- 


« 


-40 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  "IMAGINARY  PORTRAITS” 

The  "Imaginary  Portraits"  and  certain  essays  from  other  vol- 
umes which  are  conceived  in  the  same  mood,  constitute  a special  di. 
vision  of  Pater’s  writings,  and  one  which  has  a special  interest  be- 
cause it  falls  in  so  closely,  we  may  thing,  with  some  of  the  pe- 
culiarities of  the  writer’s  own  temperament*  Of  his  method,  it  may 
be  said  in  general  that  Pater  here  attempts  to  place  an  individual 
drawn  from  history,  as  in  the  paper  on  Antony  Watteau,  or  from  the 
imagination,  as  in  "Denys  L’Auxerrois"  in  the  environment  from  which 
he  sprang,  and,  using  the  same  deft  imaginative  touch  with  which  he 
exposed  the  life  of  ancient  Greece  in  the  Greek  Studies,  to  build 
up  on  whatever  hints  he  can  find,  the  psychology  of  an  individual* 

There  is  a significance  in  the  characters  he  finds  attractive. 
They  are  invariably  types  of  discontent,  unrest;  men,  frequently 
with  pathological  peculiarities,  who  seem  to  find  something  lacking 
in  their  own  world,  or  some  vague  yearning  in  themselves  which  un- 
fits them  for  saying  "yea"  to  the  universe, 

First  of  the  essays  is  "A  Prince  of  Court  Painters",  Antony 
Y/atteau,  The  essay,  with  a narrative  and  dramatic  quality  quite 
distinctive  among  Pater’s  works,  is  cast  in  the  form  of  the  diary 
of  a .1  eune  f il  1 e of  Val  enc  iennes.  Here  perhaps  better  than  anywhere 
else  Pater  succeeds  in  escaping  from  himself.  But  he  is  never 
wholly  successful.  And  the  faint  suggestion  of  Pater’s  own  charac- 
ter which  still  clings  to  the  grave,  serious -minded  young  diarist 
(as  we  may  imagine  herl ) gives  a most  attractive  air,  the  grace  of 
an  unexpected  maturity  in  observation,  an  air  of  restraint  which 


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-4: . 

mingles  oddly  with  the  fresh  naievete  of  the  young  girl,  and  flavors 
delightfully  her  tender  but  pungent  comment  on  the  life  about  her. 
She  and  the  young  Watteau  have  grown  up  together  in  the  quiet 
old-fashioned  town.  She  interests  herself  in  the  budding  talent  of 
the  youth,  exhibiting  the  quiet  solicitude  which  one  observes  so 
often  in  young  girls  ad  a kind  of  foreshadowing  of  the  maternal  in- 
stinct. Then  quite  suddenly,  the  opportunity  comes  for  Antony  to 
pursue  his  fortune  at  Faris,  The  diarist  writes: 

MHe  doesn*  t know  that  it  was  I who  persuaded 
the  scene  painter  to  take  him;  that  he  would 
find  the  lad  useful.  We  offered  him  our  little 
presents ..f ine  thread-lace  of  our  own  making 
for  his  ruffles,  and  the  like;  for  one  must  make 
a figure  in  Paris,  and  he  is  slim  and  well -formed. H 
There  is  here  what  we  may  feel  suggested  at  other  points  in  the 
sketch,  behind  the  reserved  young  dignity  of  the  remark,  the  intima- 
tion of  an  emotion  carefully  concealed,  which  would  quite  transcend 
the  bounds  of  friendship,  could  we  but  plumb  it.  As  the  essay  pro- 
gresses there  comes  the  same  suspicion  at  divers  points,  but  the 
hint  is  never  elaborated;  rather,  firmly  repressed, --which  may  be 
as  characteristic  of  Pater  as  it  was  of  the  little  girl  of  Valen- 
c iennes* 

Watteau  prospered  famously  at  court.  Ee  bore  the  title  of 
Peintre  dee  Fetes  Gal  ant  es  and  Peintre  du  Roji.  The  soul  of  the  gen- 
tle writer  is  fired  with  optimism  and  enthusiasm  and  gratitude  when 
the  artist  consents  to  take  her  small  brother  Jean-Bapt iste  as  pupil. 
But  a year  and  a half  later  the  boy  comes  home --dismiss ed£  The  rea- 
son is  not  apparent  at  the  time;  possibly  caprice,  or  a feeling  on 


-42 


the  part  of  Watteau  that  the  youth  was  lacking  in  talent. 

Occasionally  the  girl  "becomes  a mere  convention,  to  he 
dropped  easily  while  Pater  himself  speaks  forth  on  the  serious 
business  of  the  paper.  At  least,  it  would  he  an  extraordinary 
.jeune  fille,  who  could  express  so  well  the  elusive  individual  qual- 
ity in  Watteau’s  work,  - 

’’That  charming  Kohl  esse  --can  it  be  really  so 
distinguished  to  the  minutest  point,  so  naturally 
aristocratic?  Half  in  masquerade,  playing  the 
drawing-room  or  garden  comedy  of  life,  these  per- 
sons have  upon  them,  not  less  than  the  landscape 
he  composes,  and  among  the  accidents  of  which 
they  group  themselves  with  such  a perfect  fitting  - 
ness,  a certain  light  we  should  seek  for  in  vain 
upon  anything  real,” 

Her  analysis  of  the  character  of  the  man  is  no  less  penetrat- 
ing, sharpened  perhaps  by  that  intuitive  feminine  insight  which  we 
are  accustomed  to  think  of  as  piercing  to  the  centre  of  character, 
when  the  heart  is  engaged.  Watteau,  born  in  the  mosy  humble  state, 
could  not  but  have  felt  the  fascination  of  the  gay,  graceful  society 
which  embraced  him  as  a welcome,  highly  desirable  ornament.  Yet  a 
vanity  fed  to  satiety  upon  adulation  does  not  make  for  happiness,  as 
Watteau  found  out  speedily  enough.  He  seemed  always  to  be  reaching 
out,  dissatisfied  with  his  life  as  he  lived  it,  his  attainments,  him- 
self; bearing  on  in  a vain  quest,  "always  a seeker  after  something  in 
the  world  that  is  there  in  no  satisfying  measure,  or  not  at  all.” 

In  ’’Denys  L* Auxerrois”,  a strictly  imaginative  piece  of  work, 
the  story  is  told  of  a wild,  mysterious,  mad  young  pagan  and  his 
life  and  death  in  the  medieval  town  of  Auxerre.  The  raconteur  is  a 


-43- 


traveller  in  France  who  discovers  the  strange,  curiously  fascinating 
theme  of  Denys’  influence  in  Auxerre  in  an  old  tapestry  which  a 
priest  shows  him.  So  far  as  he  could  make  out  it  dealt  with  the 
building  of  the  cathedral  of  Saint  Etienne,  towards  the  middle  of 
the  thirteenth  century,  when  the  cathedral  was  nearly  complete,  the 
main  incident  of  the  tapestry  being  the  building  of  an  organ. 

There  seems  to  be  in  the  tapestry  a wild  Bacchic  license, 
’’giddy  dances , wild  animals  leaping,  above  all  perpetual  wrea things 
of  the  vine,  connecting,  like  some  mazy  arabesque,  the  various  pre- 
sentations of  one  oft-repeated  f igure, , . . that  of  the  organ  builder 
himself,  a flaxen  and  flowery  creature,  sometimes  well  nigh  naked 
among  the  vine! eaves,  sometimes  muffled  in  skins  against  the  cold, 
sometimes  in  the  dress  of  a monk,  but  always  with  a strong  impress 
of  real  character  and  incident  from  the  veritable  streets  of 
Auxerre.”  For  all  its  free  pagan  beauty,  the  figure  gives  him  the 
feeling  that  it  is  suffering  some  malicious,  strange  torture. 

Pater  then  sets  out  to  create  from  his  own  fancy  the  story  of 
the  figure  in  the  tapestry,  Denys  of  Auxerre.  He  was  rumoured  to  be 
the  natural  son  of  a foimer  count  of  Auxerre.  He  had  lived  with  his 
maternal  relatives  in  the  most  humble  circumstances,  keeping,  in 
fact,  a stall  in  the  market-place  of  the  town.  Yet.  his  nearness  to 
the  people,  his  constant  association  with  them,  had  never  made  him 
one  of  them.  He  had  a superior,  magnetic  personality,  that  drew  his 
f el  1 ow -townsmen  to  him.  But  they  seemed  to  feel  something  sinister, 
at  times,  even  when  the  attraction  he  exerted  was  most  powerful • His 
influence  over  the  young  men  of  the  town,  falling  in  with  the  politi- 
cal temper  of  the  times  produced  a most  singular  unrest,  ’'a  wild  so- 
cial license,  which  for  a while  made  life  like  a stage -play.” 


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-44. 


There  was  an  uncanny  quality  in  his  presence  which  gradually 
aroused  the  suspicion  of  the  people*  Ke  cultivated  a fondness  for 
misshapen  children;  he  maintained  as  a companion  a half -tamed  wolf* 

He  had,  too,  strange  fears,. — an  inordinate  horror  of  the  owl.  He 
disappeared  for  long  periods  and  then  re -appeared  in  a startling,  in. 
explicable  way.  After  one  of  these  pilgrimages  (in  this  instance  it 
had  been  to  Marsel iies  where  he  had  obtained  from  the  sailors  many 
delightful  wares  from  the  Indes  and  Persia)  his  nature  seemed  to 
undergo  a malignant  change.  He  became  even  more  feared  and  hated  by 
the  people.  Strange  things  happened.  A kind  of  madness  seemed  to 
possess  the  people.  F.ven  nature  seemed  to  be  perverted  by  his  evil 
genius,  and  the  former  sunny  vineyards  were  bathed  all  summer  in 
cold  rain. 

Goaded  by  the  fear  that  sits  ever  near  the  hearts  of  simple 
and  primitive  people,  his  f ell ow -townsmen  attempted  to  kill  Denys 
as  a sorceror.  He  escaped  their  malevolence  miraculously,  lying  in 
hiding  in  his  early  cottage  home.  At  this  time  the  clergy  bethought 
them  of  the  body  of  a patron  saint  which  had  lain  long  neglected, 
and  which  they  promptly  exhumed  and  arranged  to  enshrine  richly,  that 
they  might  avert  the  vicissitudes  which  threatened  to  overwhelm  them. 

Denys  was  quietly  received  by  the  monks  who  still  labored  on 
the  cathedral  because  of  his  manual  skill  and  "exquisite  fancy" 
which  lent  itself  well  to  the  decoration  of  the  church.  Denys  de- 
signed the  new  organ  too,  for,  "like  the  Wine-god  of  old,  he  had 
been  a lover  and  patron  especially  of  the  music  of  the  pipe." 

Gradually  the  memory  of  the  peoples’  animosity  and  fierce  dis- 
trust faded  in  the  mind  of  Denys,  and  on  a day  of  ceremony  for  the 
whole  town--it  was  the  occasion  of  the  blessing  of  the  foundation  of 
a new  bridge  by  the  bishop --he  ventured  forth  to  witness  the  evento 


< 


-45  - 


Suddenly  he  was  reminded  of  his  plight  when  he  felt  the  eyes  of  the 
crowd  on  him,  full  of  a curious  " strange  humour”,  an  insidious,  half- 
veiled  threat*  He  leaped  into  the  water,  and  again  escaped,  nc  one 
knew  how* 

There  came  a time  when  the  townspeople  prepared  a popular  pa- 
geant, similar  to  an  earlier  one,  the  Return  from  the  East  in  which 
he  had  played  the  leading  part*  Seized,  perhaps,  with  one  of  the 
intermittent  fits  of  madness  with  which  he  had  always  been  afflicted, 
and  which  came  on  him  now  with  greater  frequency,  he  conceived  the 
idea  of  winning  back  his  popularity  by  appearing  in  his  former  role, 
in  monk*  s dress* 

"Hastily  he  donned  the  ashen-grey  mantle,  the 
rough  haircloth  about  the  throat,  and  went  through 
the  preliminary  matter®  And  it  happened  that  a 
point  of  the  haircloth  scratched  his  lip  deeply, 
with  a long  trickling  of  blood  upon  the  chin.  It 
was  as  if  the  sight  of  blood  transported  the 
spectators  with  a kind  of  mad  rage,  and  suddenly 
revealed  to  them  the  truth®  The  pretended  hunting 
of  the  unholy  creature  became  a real  one,  which 
brought  out,  in  rapid  increase,  men’s  evil  passions. 

The  soul  of  Denys  was  already  at  rest,  as  his  body, 
now  borne  along  in  front  of  the  crowd,  was  tossed 
hither  and  thither,  tern  at  last  limb  from  limb* 

The  men  stuck  little  shreds  of  his  flesh,  or  fail- 
ing that,  of  his  torn  raiment,  into  their  caps; 
the  women  lending  their  long  hairpins  for  the 
purpose." 


i 


t 


< 


( 


< 


-46. 


We  have  here  an  imaginative  creation  in  which,  as  Benson  says, 
’•the  fancy  seems  to  struggle  and  trample  with  a strange  self -born 
fury,  as  though  it  had  taken  the  bit  in  its  teeth,  and  was  with 
difficulty  over -mastered.”  It  is  different  from  the  other  papers, 
but  a difference  in  degree,  not  in  kind;  all  the  elements,  the  pagan, 
the  strange,  romantic  charm  of  the  medieval,  the  aesthetic  spectacle 
of  the  whole  story,  the  luxurious  revelling  in  the  strange,  misty 
beauty  of  antiquity,  are  always  characteristic  of  Pater*  Here,  for 
once,  hie  temperate,  disciplined  mind  seems  to  have  slipped  the 
lease.  The  prominent  qualities  and  incidents  of  the  story  are  all 
typical  of  that  later  school  which  claimed  to  have  derived 
legitimately  from  Pater,  and  which  aroused  aesthetic  pleasure  from 
the  cultivation  of  "strangeness  and  beauty",  the  excitation  of  emo- 
tion, the  stimulus  of  imagination,  through  the  portrayal  of  the 
strange,  romantic,  gruesome,  and  sensuous.  For  examples  the  strange 
character  of  Denys,  c expounded  of  gentleness  and  cruelty,  and  never 
quite  revealed  in  all  its  constituent  parts;  his  fits  of  inexplicable 
frenzy;  the  picture  of  the  bishop’s  red-gloved  hands  drawing  from 
the  little  coffin  the  wasted  body  of  the  saint;  the  incident  of  the 
finding  of  the  body  of  the  child’s  skeleton  in  the  foundation  of  the 
old  Homan  bridge;  the  memorable  scene  of  the  mad  Denys  plunging  his 
mattock  into  the  mouldering  bones  of  the  graveyard  in  insane  delight; 
and  the  final  scene  of  his  death,  with  all  its  horrible  details.  The 
essay  undoubtedly  would  have  been  accepted  as  the  authentic  produc- 
tion of  its  own  group  by  the  Yell ow  Book  or  the  Savoy  Magaz ine. 

"Sebastian  Van  Storck"  is  a dtudy  of  a man  of  brilliant  in- 
tellectual gifts,  great  attractiveness  of  person,  of  impeccable  so- 
cial standing,  and,  to  top  it  all,  extremely  wealthy,  who  embarks 
upon  the  fiigid  sea  of  philosophy  at  just  that  age  when  the  expansive 


-47- 


tendency  is  ordinarily  urging  youth  into  the  world  with  a vigorous 
enthusiasm  for  activity  and  conquest#  But  Sebastian  was  "like  one 
disembarrassing  himself  of  all  impediments,  habituating  himself 
gradually  to  make  shift  with  as  little  as  possible,  in  preparation 
for  a long  journey***  In  his  passion  for  intellectual  clearness,  he 
came  to  shrink  from  all  that  was  positive,  evaluating  the  results  of 
his  observation  from  the  vantage  point  of  utter  detachment*  His 
speculations  upon  the  universe  lead  him  into  a subjective  mood,  the 
belief  that  after  all,  whatever  certitude  the  phenomenal  world  had 
for  him  could  only  be  established  and  maintained  through  his  own 
states  of  consciousness.  He  thought  of  the  world  "as  being  zero 
without  him."  Having  taken  this  view,  the  valadity  of  his  thoughts 
became  of  eminent  importance*  And  so  his  passion  for  attaining  to 
pure  reason,  in  his  power  of  thought, 

"All  was  but  conscious  mind*  Therefore, 
all  the  more  exclusively,  he  must  minister 
to  mind,  to  the  intellectual  power,  whither- 
soever it  might  lead  him.  Everything  must  be 
referred  to,  and,  as  it  were,  changed  into  the 
terms  of  that,  if  its  essential  value  was  to 
be  ascertained," 

A fanatical  doctrine  turns  upon  itself  if  allowed  to  run  its 
course  unrestrained,  and  we  find  that  the  philosophy  of  Sebastian 
from  which  he  had  extracted  all  touch  of  humanity  and  personality, 
reacted  upon  him  with  a sort  of  ironical  truth* 

"At  first,  indeed,  he  had  a kind  of  delight 
in  his  thoughts --in  the  eager  pressure  forward, 
to  whatsoever  conclusion,  of  a rigid  intellectual 


* 

. 

. 


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i 


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, 


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-48. 

gymnastic,  which  was  like  the  making  of 
Euclid.  Only,  little  by  little,  under  the 
freezing  influence  of  such  propositions,  the 
theoretic  energy  itself,  and  with  it  his  old 
eagerness  for  truth,  the  care  to  track  it 
from  proposition  to  proposition,  was  chilled 
out  of  him." 

Sebastian  finds  himself  being  drawn  into  an  intimacy  with  a 
girl  whose  warmth  and  color  repulse  him  less  than  any  force  which 
has  ever  acted  upon  him  from  without.  All  the  friends  of  the  two 
families  concerned  are  expecting  momentarily  an  announcement  of  en- 
gagement. Sebastian  is  trembling  in  the  balance.  At  this  time  the 
lady  exhibits  a natural  touch  of  feminine  coquetry  (being,  in  the 
common  phrase,  sure  of  him! ) which  shocks  every  fibre  of  his  pallid 
temperament*  He  finds  something  coarse  about  it,  something  he  would 
fly  from,  something  which  makes  further  sight  of  the  girl  all  but 
repul sive. 

Leaving  for  her  a note  of  unfortunate  brevity  and  coldness,  he 
leaves  for  an  old  property  of  the  family  near  the  sea,  where  he  may 
find  lodging  and  solitude.  The  dikes  give  way  under  the  buffetting 
of  a fourteen  days  wind  and  rain,  and  the  whole  district  is  inundated, 
The  body  of  Sebastian  is  found  later,  a child  asleep  ’'swaddled  in  his 
heavy  furs.” 

The  thought  which  Pater  would  seem  to  have  enforced  here  is 
that  the  life  totally  disinterested  is  profitless  and  based  upon  a 
fallacy,  neglecting  to  take  into  account,  as  Pater  himself  points 
out,  that  an  unmitigated  devotion  to  formal  logic,  the  nomination 
upon  the  ultimate  conditions  of  existence,  is  an  activity  which 
could  never  have  brought  the  world  to  its  present  state.  Sebastian 


-49- 


never  reflected  that  it  never  could  have  evolved  himself  and  the 
curious  nihilism  of  which  he  was  actually  proud,  had  all  mankind 
spent  its  purest  energies  in  the  contemplation  of  the  ineffable.  And 
more  than  that,  the  peculiar  tragic  end  of  Sebastian,  drowned  to 
save  the  life  of  a baby,  indicates  poignantly  the  futility  of 
attempting  to  escape. 

MDuke  Carl  of  Rosenmold",  last  of  the  Imaginary  Portraits,  js 
a subtle  analysis  of  the  temperament  of  the  young  heir  of  a German 
grand  duchy.  It  was  the  time  when  Germany,  still  in  the  lethargy  of 
the  middle  ages,  had  been  far  outdistanced  by  all  her  neighbors  in 
the  arts  and  in  litarature.  Even  in  national  feeling  theGermans  were 
backward.  While  other  nations  were  growing  in  power  and  homogeneity, 
Germany  was  still  devoid  of  national  consciousness.  But  the  spell 
was  breaking.  There  was  a restless  spirit  abroad,  as  yet  appearing 
only  at  isolated  localities,  but  slowly  and  surely  evolving  a group 
consciousness  which  was  to  sweep  onward  with  the  fairest  promise  of 
success  toward  the  goal  of  a national  art  and  literature.  It  was 
such  individuals  as  the  young  Duke  Carl,  fired  with  enthusiasm  for 
all  things  Greek,  looking  with  envy  on  the  intellectual  development 
of  France  and  Italy,  yet  filled  with  love  and  hope  for  the  father- 
land,  who  became  the  fore-runners  of  Lessing  and  Herder,  and  prepared 
the  way  for  the  German  Renaissance. 

"To  bring  Apollo  with  his  lyre  to  Germany! H That  was  the  con- 
stant  dream  of  Carl,  and  those  who*  like  him,  had  caught  fire  from 
the  flame  of  Hellas. 

The  old  Grand-duke,  grandfather  of  Carl,  had  reached  a fond 
and  timorous  old  age  in  which  he  was  willing  to  give  free  rein  to  the 
whims  of  the  enthusiastic  young  man.  And  so  with  a warm  passion  for 
what  he  conceived  to  be  the  beautiful,  but  with  questionable  taste. 


, 


. 


< 


-50 


at  times*  in  his  choice*  Car]  investigated  and  tried  to  absorb 
appreciatively  all  he  came  in  contact  with  in  art,  music,  architec- 
ture, drama,  poetry.  In  this  almost  feverish  activity  there  was 
little  stability  or  balance*  V/e  read  without  surprise  that  "the 
people  in  actual  contact  with  him  thought  him  a little  mad  though 
still  ready  to  flatter  his  madness,  as  he  could  detect," 

When  even  his  closest  friends  hailed  him  as  the  Apollo  of 
Germany,  he  wearied  of  all  flattery*  He  did  not  relapse  into  the 
cynicism  which  would  have  taken  possession  of  one  of  a less  volatile 
and  more  reflective  disposition  in  an  atmosphere  so  surcharged  with 
insincerity*  but  rather  turned  his  agile  mind  to  some  trick  or  sub® 
terfuge  to  test  the  affection  of  his  court,  and  reveal  all  the  posing 
and  affectation  of  which  he  was  the  centre.  He  hit  upon  the  familiar 
device  of  announcing  his  own  death*  The  affair  is  carried  through 
with  great  magnificence,  Carl  being  present  at  the  funeral  ceremonies 
in  disguise.  Immediately  after  the  obsequisies  Carl  left  on  the 
dilatory  travels  of  which  he  had  dreamed  so  long. 

He  was  in  the  Swiss  Alps  when  the  melancholy  news  came  of  the 
Grand -duke's  taking  off.  He  made  all  speed  for  Ronsemojd.  An  in- 
cident of  his  return  to  the  life  there  was  a meeting  with  a girl  of 
peasant  origin,  who  appeared  to  be  waiting  for  him  meekly  at  just 
the  point  where  she  had  wept  in  true  affection  at  the  passing  of  his 
bier,  Duke  Carl  suddenly  determined  to  marry  her,  though  we  may  sus- 
pect no  more  through  real  affection  than  the  pleasant  consciousness 
involved  in  doing  the  fantastic,  quixotic  thing,  Carl  arrange  a se- 
cret, intimate  meeting  at  a remote  hunt ing -1 odge.  As  it  happened,  a 
great  army  was  passing  through  Rosenmold  at  the  time.  In  some 
mysterious  way  it  engulfed  the  lodge  and  its  occupants  in  its  onward 
sweep*  At  least  the  lovers  were  never  again  heard  of,  and  we  may 


< 


- : 

, 

« 

. 

c 

♦ 


. 


, 

. 

. 


.53  - 

imagine  it  as  being  at  once  their  nuptial  night  and  the  night  of 
their  death. 

Carl  was  a type  possessing  rare  impressibility,  with  a dis- 
tinct genius  for  rendering  honorable  service  in  the  great  task  he 
dreamed  of, --the  awakening  of  Germany.  But  his  essential  instabil - 
ity,  which  indicated  an  actually  abnormal  or  unbalanced  mind,  made 
every  effort  abortive.  Like  that  of  Watteau8  Denys,  and  Sebastian, 
his  is  an  incomplete  life,  one  of  unsatisfied  desires  and  frustrated 
ambitions,  the  frustration  arising  not  from  fate,  environment,  or 
adverse  circumstance,  but  in  each  case  from  some  psychological  de- 
fect in  the  individual 0 

Mr.  A.  C.  Benson,  in  his  Wal ter  Pater,  groups  two  other 
essays,  MEmerald  Uthwart"  and  "Apollo  in  Picardy"  with  the  Imaginary 
Portraits  because,  as  he  remarks,  they  fit  naturally  into  the  same 
series.  It  may  be  convenient  to  follow  his  arrangement  here. 

InwApollo  in  Picardy'*  recurrs  a favorite  idea  of  Pater’s,  the 
coming  of  a pagan  deity  to  a Christian  and  alien  land.  Prior  Saint- 
Jean  was  engaged  upon  an  abstruse  and  scholarly  treatise,  when  the 
Abbot,  solicitous  for  his  health,  which  he  had  taxed  severely  in  his 
prolonged  sedentary  occupation,  sent  him  to  the  Grange  of  the  monas- 
tery to  superintend  the  building  of  a large  barn,  accompanied  by 
Hyacinthus,  a boy  of  the  monastery  with  winsome  and  pleasing  graces, 
who  was  an  inseparable  companion  of  the  Prior. 

One  night  Prior  Saint -Jean  discovered  a serf  asleep.  It  was 
a youth,  a most  extraordinary  creature,  with  a strange,  distinctive 
beauty  which  recalls  Denys  to  mind.  And  like  Denys,  he  possessed 
peculiar  powers.  It  soon  appeared  to  the  Prior  that  this  serf 
exerted  steadily  a most  fascinating,  compelling  influence  in  the 
daily  life  of  the  Grange.  His  feats  of  strength  were  proverbial. 


< 


t 


< 


< 


t 


-52 


despite  his  slender  form.  He  could  evoke  soft  and  compelling  music 
from  his  harp,  so  that  the  workmen  were  content  to  labor  far  into 
the  night  on  the  new  barns,  joining  in  unbidden  at  times  when  the 
music  reached  them  clearly.  He  possessed  an  attraction  for  wild 
things.  He  caressed  birds,  which  flew  to  him  as  by  instinct;  then 
killed  them  ruthlessly.  One  night  the  pigeon-house  was  invaded  and 
the  next  morning  the  floor  was  littered  with  dead  broken  birds.  It 
was  strange  too  that  the  serf,  Apollyon,  was  most  meek  and  penitent 
thereafter,  and  interested  himself  in  holy  exercised  with  an  eager 
devotion  quite  foreign  to  his  usual  disposition. 

A strange  kind  of  madness,  which  was  someway  felt  to  emanate 
from  Apollyon,  had  seized  upon  the  Prior  Saint -Jean.  His  memory  be- 
came faulty.  He  was  driven  to  frenzy  by  optical  illusions.  Halos 
flitted  capriciously  before  his  eyes.  He  found  with  amizement  that 
he  was  crowding  his  treatise  with  bizarre  drawings;  "winged  flowers, 
or  stars  with  human  limbs  and  faces,  still  intruding  themselves,  or 
mere  notes  of  light  and  darkness  from  the  actual  horizon." 

The  boy  Hyacinthus  seemed  to  distrust  intuitively  the  source 
of  the  malicious  influence,  and  the  two,  monkish  youth  and  pagan, 
found  themselves  divided  over  the  disposition  of  the  Prior;  the  for- 
mer insistently  desiring  to  remove  him  to  the  monastery  proper,  the 
latter  exerting  his  influence  that  the  Prior  stay  on  at  the  Grange. 

But  their  play  was  not  wholly  interrupted.  Hyacinthus  un- 
earthed one  day  a quoit  or  discu3  from  the  debris  of  a newly  dug 
grave,  and  when  evening  came,  the  two  played  together,  hurling  it 
over  the  moonlit  turf  in  tense  and  suppressed  excitement.  They  cast 
aside  their  clothes  in  the  heat  of  the  game,  for  the  sake  of  cool- 
ness and  freedom  of  movement.  As  the  story  approaches  the  cl  irnax,  it 
is  most  effectively  told,  as  Pater  tells  it,  in  the  present  tense. 


K 


< 


< 


l 


( 


< 


v 


< 


C 


-53. 

"Under  the  overcast  sky  it  is  in  darkness  they 
are  playing,  by  guess  and  touch  chiefly;  and 
suddenly  an  icy  blast  of  wind  has  lifted  the  roof 
from  the  old  chapel,  the  trees  are  moaning  in 
wild  circular  motion,  and  their  devil’s  penny - 
piece,  when  Apollyon  throws  it  for  the  last  time, 
is  itself  but  a twirling  leaf  in  the  wind.,  till 
it  sinks  edgewise,  sawing  through  the  boy’s  face, 
uplifted  in  the  dark  to  trace  it,  crushing  in  the 
tender  skull  upon  the  brain," 

Apollyon  flees,  and  the  distraught  Prior  Saint -Jean  is  found  bending 
over  the  stricken  body  of  Hyacinthus*  Apollyon  departed  the  next 
day  leaving  the  Prior  suspected  of  murder*  He  was  held  prisoner  in 
the  monastery,  gazing  out  at  the  valley  of  the  monastery  the  rest  of 
his  days,  tormented  by  wistful,  crowding,  incoherent  desires*  Per- 
mission for  his  release  was  granted  just  as  he  died* 

"Apollo  in  Picardy"  suffers,  as  do  all  the  fantastic  sketches 
which  depend  somewhat  for  their  effect  upon  incident,  from  the  total 
absence  of  the  dramatic  gift  in  Pater’s  equipment,  and  from  his 
studie  style,  whose  complex  involutions  are  the  enemy  of  the  dra- 
matic touch  in  characterization.  It  has  the  same  romantic  half- 
light  in  which  Denys  L’Auxerrois  moves,  relieved  shockingly  we  may 
feel  sometimes,  as  in  the  stark  realism  with  which  the  death  of 
Hyacinthus  is  set  forth* 

In  "Emerald  Uthwart"  Pater  turns  from  Picardy  to  Sussex  for 
his  locale.  "The  motif  of  the  story",  says  Benson,  "is  to  depict 
a certain  type  of  Engl ishman, . a type  of  decorous  submissiveness, 
"Emerald  is  thoroughly  English  in  his  origins,  the  life  and  en- 
vironment being  set  forth  with  great  charm  and  real  sympathy,  for 


t 


< 


t 


K 


: ^ 


< 


< 


< 


< 


-54- 

Pater  was  English  in  his  affections,  no  matter  how  his  mind  yearned 
toward  the  pagan  deities  of  Olumpus,  or  the  white  porticos  of 
Athens,  or  the  decaying  campagna  of  imperial  Rome® 

The  Uthwarts  were  a quiet,  self-sufficient  people,  with  great 
sincereity  of  character  and  no  affectation  in  their  manner  of  life, 
'•Centuries  of  ’still*  life --of  birth,  death,  and  the  rest,  as  mere- 
ly natural  processes —had  made  them  and  their  home  what  we  find  them,'* 
At  school  Emerald  forms  a friendship  with  James  Stokes,  with 
whom  he  goes  up  to  Oxford,  Here  the  humility  he  had  always  shown 
developed  into  a distinctive  quality  of  character  ’’Submiss ivenessi- 
It  had  the  force  of  life-long  genius  with  Emerald  Uthwart,"  So  much 
so  is  he  dominated  by  this  idea  that  he  often  seems  merely  weak  and 
complaisant,  30  that  Min  the  bustle  of  school  life  he  did  not  count 
even  with  those  who  knew  him  best,  with  those  who  taught  him,  for  the 
intellectual  capacity  he  really  had, M 

Yet  withal,  there  was  a distinct  charm  to  his  personality, 
MStrangers*  eyes,  resting  oh  him  by  chance,  are 
deterred  for  a while,  even  among  the  rich  sights 
of  the  venerable  place,  as  he  walks  out  and  in,  in 
his  prim  gown  and  purple  tassel led  cap;  goes  in, 
with  the  stream  of  sunlight,  through  the  black 
shadows  of  the  mouldering  Gothic  gateway,  like 
youth’s  very  self,  eternal,  immemorial,  eternally 
renewed,  about  those  iramemorially  ancient  stones, 

'Young  Apollol*  people  say--p*ople  who  have  pigeon- 
holes  for  their  impressions,  watching  the  slim,  trim 
figure  with  the  exercise  books.  His  very  dress  seems 
touched  with  Hellenic  fitness  to  the  healthy  youth- 
ful form,” 


< 


t 


< 


< 


c 


t 


-56 


wound*’,,  as  he  thought  of  it,  —and  died  quietly*  He  had  before  him 
at  his  last  moments  a letter  offering  him  a commission  in  the 
British  army8  constituting,  as  a nice  piece  of  dramatic  justice,,  his 
final  vindication  before  the  worl  d« 


-57  * 

CHAPTER  IV 
THE  "GREEK  STUDIES" 

The  full  and  intelligent  appreciation  of  the  Greek  Studies 
would  demand  a fund  of  classical  erudition  such  as  only  the  scholar 
possesses,  so  I shall  content  myself  with  indicating  the  material 
which  they  contain  and  a few  suggestions  as  to  what  Pater’s  treat- 
ment of  his  subject  matter  may  mean  in  the  philosophy  of  Pater  him- 
self* The  subject  itself  is  always  likely  to  be  a fruitful  one,  be- 
cause it  is  in  his  attitude  towards  Hellenic  culture  that  the  human- 
ist always  defines  himself  most  sharply. 

The  essays  fall  into  two  groups,  treating  Greek  mythology  and 
poetry,  and  Greek  sculpture  and  architecture.  The  first  essay  takes 
for  its  subject  the  religion  of  Dionysus,  "occupying  a place  between 
the  ruder  fancies  of  half  civilized  people  concerning  life  in  flower 
or  tree,  and  the  dreamy  after -fancies  of  the  poet  of  the  Sensitive 
Plant, " whose  "graceful  worship"  came  to  mean  for  the  people  "all 
that  life  in  flowing  things  of  which  the  vine  is  the  symbol," 

The  religion  of  Dionysus  as  "a  complete  sacred  representation 
and  interpretation  of  the  whole  of  life"  was  the  outgrowth  of  an 
attitude  towards  the  world,  frequent  in  Hellenic  thought,  in  which 
life  was  thought  of  as  being  a ceaseless  ebb  and  flux,  yet  with  a 
curious  continuity  and  affinity,  which  attempted,  with  a character- 
istic passion  for  the  symbol,  to  crowd  into  the  narrow  limits  of  the 
human  form,  "the  impressions  of  natural  things",  --"to  retain  that 
early  mystical  sense  of  water,  or  wind,  or  light,  in  the  moulding  of 
eye  and  brow;  to  arrest  it,  or  rather,  perhaps,  to  set  it  free, 
there,  as  human  expression,”  Dionysus  became  then  the  god  of  the 


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-58- 

music  of  the  water -reed,  and  the  flowing  vine, --"the  spiritual  f orm 
of  fire  and  dew*" 

Like  Persephone,  Dionysus  "opens  the  hope  of  a possible  anal- 
ogy between  the  resurrection  of  nature  and  something  else,  as  yet 
unrealized,"  and  so  the  perpetual  death  and  rebirth  of  Dionysus  be- 
comes "an  emblem  or  ideal  of  chastening  and  purification",  steadily 
illuminating  to  the  moral  nature* 

In  the  "Bacchanals  of  Euripides"  Pater  discusses  the  treat- 
ment of  the  same  theme  in  Greek  drama*  The  story  here  is  of  Diony- 
sus and  the  rebellious  women  of  Thebes*  J?or  it  seems  to  have  been 
women  who  were  most  susceptible  to  the  subtle  influence  of  the 
Dionyssic  worship, --"those  who  experience  most  directly  the  influ- 
ence of  things  which  touch  thought  through  the  senses --the  presence 
of  night,  the  expectation  of  morning,  the  nearness  of  wild,  un- 
sophisticated, natural  things, --the  echoes,  the  coolness,  the  noise 
of  frightened  creatures  as  they  climbed  through  the  darkness,  the 
sunrise  seen  from  the  hilltops,  the  disillusion,  the  bitterness  of 
satiety,  the  deep  slumber  which  comes  with  the  morning," 

The  ancient  myth  of  Demeter  and  Persephone,  whose  central  ex- 
pression occured  as  early  as  600  B*C.,  is  traced  from  its  origins 
in  the  essay,  "Demeter  and  Persephone."  Pater  follows  the  legend 
through  three  phases,  which  may  be  taken  as  characteristic  of  all 
similar  mythological  stories  which  exerted  any  considerable  influ- 
ence in  Greek  religion  or  ethics;  the  first,  in  which  the  story  was 
perpetuated  verbally;  the  second,  in  which  the  poets  seized  upon  the 
story,  limiting  and  expanding  it  so  as  to  develop  most  fully  its 
literary  possibilities;  and  lastly,  when"the  incidents  of  the  poet- 
ical narrative  are  realized  as  abstract  symbols,"  which  bear  some 


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-69- 


moral  or  ethical  character  in  themselves.  Demeter  is  the  type  of 
divine  grief.  Persephone,  while  the  goddess  of  death,  carries  never- 
theless, like  Dionysus,  the  promise  of  resurrection.  And  these  cos- 
mica]  stories,  antedating  even  the  pagan  animistic  sentiment  towards 
nature  in  which  there  was  a spirit  of  the  earth  and  sky,  and  a naive 
personification  of  trees  and  streams,  and  certain  places  were  even 
deemed  to  have  their  patron  spirit,  or  genius,  "stood  to  the  primi- 
tive intelligence  in  place  of  such  metaphysical  conceptions"  as  the 
later  animism,  or  the  modern  scientific  conception  of  nature,  in 
which  mechanics  have  so  completely  displaced  the  poetic  or  instinc- 
tive feeling. 

The  spirit  of  sadness  has  frequently  been  considered  as  for- 
eign to  the  Greek  temperament,  melancholy  being  associated  more  in- 
timately with  the  romantic  mood.  Pater  shows  from  the  legend  of 
Demeter  and  Persephone  that  this  is  only  a partial  conception. 

"The  'worship  of  sorrow*,  as  Goethe  called 
it,  is  sometimes  supposed  to  have  had  almost 
no  place  in  the  religion  of  the  Greeks , Their 
religion  has  been  represented  as  a religion  of 
mere  cheerfulness,  the  worship  by  an  untroubled, 
unreflecting  humanity,  conscious  of  no  deeper 
needs,  of  the  embodiments  of  its  own  joyous 
activity.  It  helped  to  hide  out  of  their  sight 
those  traces  of  decay  and  weariness,  of  which  the 
Greeks  were  constitutionally  shy,  to  keep  them 
from  peeping  too  curiously  into  certain  shadowy 
places,  appropriate  enough  to  the  gloomy  imagina- 
tion of  the  middle  age;  and  it  hardly  proposed  to 
itself  to  give  consolation  to  people  who,  in  truth. 


1 


-60- 


were  never  ’sick  or  sorry’ 

The  second  phase  of  the  myth,  conceived  in  ”a  conscious  liter- 
ary temper”,  shows  the  story  humanized,  ’’its  subj ect . . . the  mater 
dolorosa  of  the  ancient  world”,  which  in  turn  developed  into  the 
third  phase,  whose  function  it  was  to  give  ’’visible  aesthetic  ex- 
pression” to  the  ideal  conceptions  embodied  in  Demeter  the  divine 
sorrowing  mother,  and  Persephone,  the  goddess  of  death,  and  the  fi- 
nal image  of  Demeter  enthroned,  chastened  by  sorrow,  and  somewhat 
advanced  in  age,  blessing  the  earth  in  her  joy  at  the  return  of 
Kore,”  (Persephone) 

Such  legends  are  not  theology.  Nor  are  they  any  kind  of  for- 
malized result  of  speculation  upon  the  religious  aspects  of  the  phe- 
nomenal world.  They  must  be  viewed  as  poetry.  And  it  is  as  poetry 
that  they  preserve  their  attractiveness  for  the  modern  mind, --to- 
gether with  a certain  solemnizing  influence  because  of  our  memory  of 
their  power  in  an  age  which  has  always  possessed  a strong  allure  for 
the  humanist. 

”There  is  an  attractiveness  in  these  goddesses 
of  the  earth,  akin  to  the  influence  of  cool  places, 
quiet  houses,  subdued  light,  tranquil 1 ising  voices. 

What  is  there  in  this  phase  of  ancient  religion  for 
us,  at  the  present  day?  The  myth  of  Demeter  and 
Persephone,  then,  illustrates  the  power  of  the 
Greek  religion  as  a religion  of  pure  ideas --of  con- 
ceptions, which  having  no  link  on  historical  fact, 
yet,  because  they  arose  naturally  out  of  the  spirit 
of  man,  and  embodied,  in  adequate  sympol s,  his  deep- 
est thoughts  concerning  the  conditions  of  his  physical 
and  spiritual  life,  maintained  their  hold  through  many 


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-6]  - 


changes,  and  are  still  not  without  a solemnising 
power  even  for  the  modern  mind,  which  has  once  ad- 
mitted them  as  recognised  and  habitual  inhabitants; 
and,  abiding  thus  for  the  elevation  and  purifying  of 
our  sentiments,  long  after  the  earlier  and  simpler 
races  of  their  worshippers  have  passed  away,  they 
may  be  a pledge  to  us  of  the  place  in  our  culture, 
at  once  legitimate  and  possible,  of  the  associations, 
the  conceptions,  the  imagery,  of  Greek  religious 
poetry  in  general , of  the  poetry  of  all  religions." 

"Hippolytus  Veiled",  identified  as  "a  study  from  Euripides", 
i3  the  story  of  the  live -child  of  Theseus  and  an  Amazon  who,  alone 
and  un-husbanded,  nourishes  and  trains  the  youth  in  a life,  simple, 
frugal,  chaste.  As  one  schooled  in  a mental  and  physical  temperance 
which  almost  approaches  severity,  he  passes  on  into  the  world  where 
he  wins  distinction  for  himself  in  the  chariot  races,  and  where  his 
personal  qualities  make  him,  if  untouched  by  adulation,  at  least  the 
popular  idol. 

Q,ueen  Phaedra,  a woman  whose  unruly  passion  and  beauty  of 
form  suggest  the  magnificently  beautiful  bad  women  of  the  Italian 
Renaissance,  devotes  all  the  wealth  of  her  allure  to  his  seduction. 
His  cold  purity  and  aloofness,  mingled  we  are  to  understand,  with  a 
faintly  suggested  disdain,  but  inflames  her  desire  the  more,  and 
lends  further  incitement  to  the  impetuous  wish  to  fan  in  him  the 
white  heat  of  a first  passion*  He  is  indifferent  to  all  her  ad- 
vances, warned  by  his  early  training  and  a kind  of  natural  fastid- 
iousness. Phaedra  flies  into  the  insane  rage  of  desire  denied,  and 
vanity  sorely  lacerated,  and,  as  Potiphar's  wife,  repeats  to  the 
husband  just  returned  from  a long  journey,  a story  of  attempted  vio- 


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-62- 


lence  to  her  honor,  committed  by  Hippo]  ytus* 

King  Theseus,,  in  hitter  hatred,  flings  upon  him  the  mysterious 
curse  of  a wasting  sickness, --through  which  runs  the  touching, 
internal  solicitude  of  the  anxious  mother  who  "presses  upon  him  the 
things  he  had  liked  best  in  that  eating  and  drinking  she  had  found 
so  beautiful*"  As  though  the  flame  of  her  love  had  imparted  some 
spark  of  vitality  to  his  own  flickering  light,  he  rallies,  so  that 
"suddenly  he  found  the  strength,  the  heart,  in  him,  to  try  his  for. 
tune  again  with  the  old  chariot*"  And  then  the  end  comes  dramatical- 
ly, with  a tragic  suddenness*  Once  more  he  comes  off  victor  in  the 
races*  He  circles  a curving  shore,  homeward  bound,  when  the  malice 
of  Poseidon,  or  Aphrodite  (whose  too  luxurious  worship  he  had  once 
rejected)  sends  a great  wave  to  frighten  the  horses  which  drag  him 
to  his  death  over  the  rough  paving  stones* 

The  tale  as  Pater  sees  it  is  a remain  of  that  age  in  Greek 
history  whose  records  are  preserved  for  us,  "in  shorthand  only",  the 
"picturesque,  intensely  localized  variety,  in  the  hollow  or  the  spur 
of  mountain  or  sea.shore,"  the  provincial,  homely,  deme-life  in 
which  the  individual  had  freest  play  for  his  own  energies,  and  whose 
civil  and  religious  life  was  gradually  absorbed  in  the  developing 
authority  of  Athens. 

In  the  papers  on  "The  Beginnings  of  Greek  Sculpture",  Pater 
turns  more  directly  to  a consideration  of  Greek  art,  in  which,  be- 
cause of  its  especial  affinity  for  the  Greek  temperament  and  because 
of  its  imperishability,  sculpture  occupies  the  central  position* 

Greek  sculpture,  our  most  extensive  possession  of  the  artistic  pro. 
duct  of  ancient  Greece,  remains  in  a threefold  isolation;  an  isola- 
tion from  the  "concomitant  arts",  from  the  architectural  setting, 
and  from  indigenous  elements  of  Greece,  "the  clear  Greek  skies,  the 


-63- 


poetical  Greek  3 if e” , --preservation  in  the  modern  ga33eries  of  Eng- 
land and  the  Continent,  foreign  in  place  and  age. 

Pater  departs  somewhat  from  the  received  analysis  and  inter- 
pretation of  the  elements  in  Greek  sculpture.  ’’The  works  of  the 
highest  Greek  sculpture  are  indeed  intel 1 ectual ized,  if  we  may  say 
so,  to  the  utmost  degree,”  yet,  says  Pater,  ’’they  are  still  sensuous 
and  material,  addressing  themselves,  in  the  first  instance*  not  to 
the  purely  reflective  faculty  hut  to  the  eye.” 

”To  pass  by  the  purely  visible  side  of  these 
things,  then,  is  not  on3y  to  miss  a refining 
pleasure,  but  to  mistake  altogether  the  medium 
in  which  the  most  intellectual  of  the  creations 
of  Greek  art,  the  Aeginetan  or  the  Elgin  marbles, 
for  instance,  were  actually  produced;  even  these 
having,  in  their  origin,  depended  for  much  of  their 
charm  on  the  mere  material  in  which  they  were  exe- 
cuted; and  the  whole  black  and  grey  world  of  extant 
antique  sculpture  needing  to  be  translated  back  in- 
to ivory  and  gold,  if  we  would  feel  the  excitement 
which  the  Greek  seems  to  have  felt  in  the  presence  of 
these  objects.” 

And  again,  emphasizing  the  same  idea.  Pater  says 

“Greek  sculpture  could  not  have  been  precisely  a 
cold  thing;  and,  whatever  a colour-blind  school  may 
say,  pure  thoughts  have  their  coldness,  a coldness 
which  has  sometimes  repelled  from  Greek  sculpture, 
with  its  unsuspected  fund  of  passion  and  energy  in 
material  form,  those  who  cared  much,  and  with  much 
insight,  for  a similar  passion  and  energy  in  the 


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-64 


coloured  world  of  Italian  painting." 

Chief,  perhaps,  of  the  "concomitant  arts",  was  metal  work, 
finely  wrought  bas-reliefs,  gold  and  silver  twisted  and  hammered  in- 
to exquisite  designs,  and  the  sterner  shields  and  other  pieces  of 
martial  equipment,  in  all  of  which,  however,  "use  and  beauty  are 
still  undivided." 

In  discussing  the  metal  work  which  Homer  describes.  Pater  re- 
veals, incidentally,  a most  attractive  quality  of  his  style,  - that 
striking  way  of  his  of  making  tangible  the  life  which  has  long  since 
crumbl ed  away0 

"That  is  jU3t  the  sort  of  metal -work  which,  in 
a certain  naivete  and  vigour,  is  still  of  all  work 
the  most  expressive  of  actual  contact  with  dexter- 
ous fingers;  one  seems  to  trace  in  it,  on  every 
particle  of  the  partially  resisting  material,  the 
touch  and  play  of  the  shaping  instruments,  in 
highly  trained  hands,  under  the  guidance  of  ex- 
quisitely disciplined  senses --that  cachet,  or  seal 
of  nearness  to  the  workman’s  hand,  which  is  the 
special  charm  of  all  good  metal -work,  of  early 
metal -work  in  particular*" 

Here  "the  partly  mythical  ornaments  imaginatively  enlarged  of  the 
heroic  age,  are  so  revealed  as  to  correspond  minutely  to  "a  world  of 
actual  handicrafts."  It  is,  as  Pater  sums  it  up,  the  art  of  "a 
people  whose  civilization  is  still  young,  delighting,  as  the  young 
do,  in  ornament,  in  the  sensuous  beauty  of  ivory  and  gold,  in  all 
the  lovely  productions  of  skilled  fingers." 

However  inimical  to  the  political  and  wider  social  well-being 


of  humanity  the  rule  of  despots  has  been,  it  has  been  frequently 


-65. 


noticed  that  the  arts  have  flourished  most  abundantly  in  the  ages  of 
tyrants,  and  that  their  reward  and  patronage  of  the  fine  arts  has 
been  far  more  grateful  that  the  development  of  the  aesthetic  in- 
stincts fostered  among  republican  peoples.  The  age  of  the  tyrants  of 
Athens  produced  many  artistic  advances,  particularly  in  the  way  of 
technical  inventions.  Marble  was  sawed  into  thin  plates  and  used  in- 
stead of  tiles  for  roofing  material.  The  islands  of  the  Aegean 
brought  forth  numerous  artistic  devices;  coined  money  displaced  "the 
old  nail -shaped  iron  money";  the  potter’s  art  flourished.  "That 
method  of  covering  the  interiors  of  stone  buildings  with  metal 
plates"  was  elaborated  and  attained  universal  usage.  The  art  of 
soldering  "is  coupled  with  the  name  of  Glaucus  of  Chios,  a name 
which,  in  connexion  with  this  and  other  devices  for  facilitating  the 
mechanical  processes  of  art,  --  for  perfecting  artistic;  effect  with 
economy  of  labour,  --  became  proverbial,  the  ’art  of  Glaucus’  being 
attributed  to  those  who  work  well  with  rapidity  and  ease."  The  art 
of  casting  hollow  figures  belongs  to  this  period,  and  "is  really  the 
discovery  of  liberty  in  composition." 

And  so  we  come,  in  576  B.C.,  to  "the  first  clear  exampl e, . . . of 
a communicable  style",  the  work  of  two  brothers,  Dipoenus  and  Scyllis, 
who  inaugurated  and  became  the  most  illustrious  representatives  of 
the  school  of  Sicyon,  It  is  the  period  in  which  "the  Greek  workman 
triumphs  over  the  first  rough  mechanical  difficulties  which  beset 
him",  in  which  "our  own  fancy  must  fill  up  the  story  of  the  unrecord- 
ed patience  of  the  work-shop,  into  which  we  seem  to  peep  through 
these  scanty  noti ces --the  fatigue,  the  disappointments,  the  steps  re- 
seated, ending  at  last  in  that  moment  of  success,  which  is  all 
Pausanias  records,  somewhat  uncertainly."  To  this  period  Pater  gives 


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-66- 


the  name  of  "the  period  of  graven  images",  because  a]]  the  arts, 

"are  combined  in  the  making  of  livlier  idols  than  had  heretofore 
been  seen." 

The  desire  for  more  beautiful  objects  of  worship  grew  with 
the  passing  of  the  early  primitive  religion,  which  "attaching  itself 
not  to  the  worship  of  visible  human  forms,  but  to  relics,  to  natural 
of  half -natural  objects",  contented  itself  with  rude,  almost  ludi- 
crous representations  of  the  gods. 

And  so,  in  this  age  of  conscious  worship,  the  personality  of 
the  artist  emerged,  and  with  the  growth  of  the  subjective  element  in 
Greek  art,  it  approached  with  celerity  the  flower  ofi  its  genius* 

In  "The  Marbles  of  Aegina",  Pater  treats  of  what  he  conceives 
as  the  most  perfect  exampl e which  has  been  preserved  to  us  of  Greek 
humanism,  in  which  the  Ionian,  the  sensuous,  aesthetically  pleasing 
element,  is  joined  most  harmoniously  to  the  Doric,  the  spirit  of 
temperance  which  seems  to  him  to  be  the  leading  motif  in  Greek  art, 
as  in  Greek  philosophy  and  life*  "In  this  monument  of  Greek  chivalr; 
pensive  and  visionary  as  it  may  seem,  thosd  old  Greek  knights  live 
with  a truth  like  that  of  Homer  or  Chaucer",  illustrating  in  Parian 
marble  "a  certain  slimness  and  tenuity,  a certain  dainty  lightness 


of  poise", --that  art  in  life  which  almost  became  a virtue  in  the  eyes 
of  Pater* 

The  volume  of  Greek  Studies  closed  with  the  essay  called  "The 
Age  of  the  Athletic  Prizemen".  It  discusses  a period  whose  artistic 
genius  is  devoted  not  to  the  dead,  but  to  the  immortalization  of  the 
living,  athletic  youth  of  the  day.  For  the  artist  to  achieve  a full 
realization  of  this  subject,  - this  abounding,  buoyant  youth  - there 
must  be  no  turn  of  "symbolic  hint",  for  he  is  dealing  with  material 
drawn  from  the  visible  world  of  daily  experience.  It  was  an  art 


-67. 


seeking  "mastery  of  detail,  a veritable  counterfeit  of  nature. . .One 
had  attained  the  very  turn  and  texture  of  the  crisp  locks,  another 
the  very  feel  of  the  tense  nerve  and  full -flushed  vein,  while  with 
another  you  saw  the  bosom  of  Ladas  expand,  the  lips  part,  as  if  for 
a last  breath  ere  he  reached  the  goal." 

As  we  see  it  in  the  Greek  Studies,  the  life  of  ancient  Greece 
becomes  a thing  of  color,  of  ceaseless  activity  and  energy  in  which 
the  human  spirit,  with  no  less  creative  power  now,  revolved  with  far 
less  sophistication  and  bewilderment.  If  in  his  contemplation  of  the 
golden  age  we  feel,  at  times,  a sort  of  wistfulness,  he  never  falls 
into  the  sad  romantic  mood  of  supposing  that  it  can  be  recalled,  that 
it  can  be  anything  more  for  us  than  an  added  element  of  culture, 
which  "may  cheer  and  enlarge  our  view  of  life."  In  these  studies  he 
has  recreated  with  a rare  skill  of  imaginative  ampl if icat ion  an  age 
in  which  temperance  and  beauty  were  freed  from  the  narrow  conven- 
tions of  the  fine  arts  and  made  to  govern  life  itself0  Living  be. 
came  the  finest  of  the  fine  arts;  and  so  we  may  say  with  Raymond 
Laurent,  that  "Ijt  Renaissance  eta it  son  esthet ique.  les  etudes 
grecques  son  ethique" . 


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-68 


CHAPTER  V 
THE  PATER IAN  PLATO 

It  is  not  difficult  to  search  out  in  Plato  the  elements  in 
him  whose  appeal  struck  so  deeply  and  searchingly  into  Pater  as  to 
furnish  inspiration  for  Plato  and  Platonism,  a book  which,  according 
to  Pater  himself,  has  of  all  his  writings  the  best  chance  for  sur- 
vival , 

The  key  to  Pater’s  approach  to  Plato  is  supplied  in  his  atti-  j 
tude  toward  Greek  life  and  literature  as  a whole0  There  is  here  in 
Pater,  as  in  Matthew  Arnold,  a constant  desire  to  establish  univers-  j 
al  values,  to  make  estimates  which  shall  have  a vital  bearing  on  the 
tremendously  important  matter  of  living  a good  life.  Neither  Pater  j 
nor  Arnold  is  a great  scholar  in  the  sense  in  which  we  call  men 
scholars  who  have  devoted  their  whole  life  to  the  accurate,  patient,  J 
investigation  of  one  subject,  ^et  both  have  become  influences  in 
making  vital  for  others  what  they  have  themselves  found  useful  to 
the  purpose  suggested  above,  by  an  attitude  toward  Greek  thought 
which  may  be  called  the  interpretative,  cultural,  or  appreciative 
attitude* 

One  might  safely  say  that  Pater  eould  not  be  taken  as  an 
authority  on  the  Platonic  metaphysics,  that  he  is  not  always  wholly  j 
accurate  in  his  judgements  of  the  elements  in  Plato  upon  which  abso- 
lute, categorical  estimates  can  be  placed*  Kis  was  scarcely  the 
philosophical  mind,  nor  did  he  have  the  training  or  inclination  for 
scholarly  investigat ion*  This  is,  of  course,  a statement  of  limita- 
tions, not  a criticism  of  Pater*  It  is  nothing  detrimental  to  him 
that  he  is  not  that  which  he  makes  no  pretense  of  being,, 


'Vi.  • 


■ ' 


, 


, 


. 


t , 

, 


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♦ 


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► 


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' 


. 


-69 


It  is  as  one  who  attempts  to  understand  Plato,  who  has  thor- 
oughly assimilated  him  in  spirit  at  least  and  who  is  attempting  to 
draw  from  him  whatever  there  is  to  he  found  in  his  philosophy  of 
cultural  or  humanistic  value,  that  Pater  becomes  a significant  fig- 
ure. 

Plato  had  a peculiar  affinity  for  Pater.  His  was  a mind  re- 
markable for  its  universality  and  activity,  one  which  boldly  imposed 
itself  on  its  contemporaries  in  a most  significant  moment  of  the 
worl d* s history.  Pater,  as  Paul  Elmer  More  points  out,  made  it  his 
business,  it  was  his  constant  and  pressing  desire,  "to  addimilate 
all  the  great  movements  of  history." 

And  more  than  that,  Plato  gave  to  Pater  a philosophy  offering 
so  much  in  the  aesthetic  appreciation  of  life,  and  an  ideal  of  moral 
virtue  of  an  acquired,  disciplined  temperance;  clear,  cold,  almost 
transcendent,  and,  if  rightly  understood,  not  without  its  aesthetic 
appeal.  With  distinguished  insight,  sympathy  and  understanding. 
Pater  apprehended  and  interpreted  the  rich  gifts  which  have  made 
Plato  a great  figure  in  literature  and  philosophy;  drew  out  from 
them  with  rare  selective  purpose,  all  those  qualities  and  implica- 
tions which,  to  state  the  matter  simply,  would  lead  one  to  an  en- 
raptured c ontemplation  of  the  beautiful  and  the  good. 

Of  the  three  critical  approaches  to  matters  of  speculative 
opinion  which  Pater  notices;  the  dogmatic,  the  eclectic,  and  the 
historical.  Pater  himself  chooses  as  most  typical  of  the  "Time- 
spirit"  of  his  own  day,,  and  as  his  own,  "the  historic  method,  which 
bids  us  replace  the  doctrine,  or  the  system,  we  are  busy  with,  or 
such  an  ancient  monument  of  philosophic  thought  as  The  Republ ic.  as 
far  as  possible  in  the  group  of  conditions, , intel 1 ectual , social. 


material,  amid  which  it  was  actually  produced,  if  we  would  really 


-70- 


understand  it.” 

Adopting  this  attitude,  he  finds  that  so  far  as  the  elements 
are  concerned  which  appear  prominently  in  the  Platonic  philosophy, 
they  are  derived  from  earlier  thinkers  to  a large  degtee.  Pater 
shows  the  same  striking  interpretative  power  in  tracing  the  sources 
of  Plato,  as  characterizes  his  treatment  of  the  philosophy  of  Plato 
himself,  or  of  the  humanistic  side  of  the  Platonic  philosophy. 

These  various  systems  from  which  Plato  drew  so  widely,  and 
re-comhined  with  such  amazing  results.  Pater  views  "broadly  as  ten- 
dencies, developing  at  the  same  time  the  extremely  interesting 
thought  that  they  represent  certain  categories,  certain  pre-disposed 
ways  of  looking  at  the  world,  which  were  indigenous  to  the  Greek 
mind,  and  which  only  awaited  the  catalysis  of  the  genius  of  a Plato 
to  become  fused. 

In  all  ages  men  have  learned  to  distrust  the  evidence  of  their 
senses,  have  reflected  upon  the  evanescence  of  the  empires  of  the 
world,  the  institutions  upon  which  they  were  founded,  and  have  ob- 
served that  even  the  speculative  reason  has  its  imperceptible  muta- 
tions which  in  time  reverse  the  whole  basis  of  thought,  and  seem  to 
make  bad  good®  and  good,  bad;  truth  and  error  to  be  identical . And 
so,  in  regarding  this  continuous  procession  of  becoming,  men  have 
risen  in  all  periods  of  history  to  preach  the  doctrine  of  change,  of 
“the  perpetual  flux.” 

This  doctrine  was  sponsored  in  Plato* s day  by  Heraclitus,  who 
preceded  him  about  one  generation,  and  who  had  challenged  the  older 
Eleatic  belief  that  beneath  the  phenomenal  world  there  was  some  sort 
of  intangible,  fundamental  permanence,  like  the  Lockian  “primary 
qualities”,  or  Kant’s  things -in.themselves. 


‘ 


( < 


- 


-73  - 


Heraclitus’  influence  on  Plato  was  profound  but  in  the  direc- 
tion of  antithesis,  rather  than  of  sympathy.  With  his  eye  always  on 
the  social  application  of  the  principles  involved,  Plato  saw  the 
Heraclitean  ethics  confirming  the  Greeks  in  the  defects  of  their 
qualities.  Pater,  too,  saw  this  clearly. 


"Heraclitus,  of  ancient  hereditary  rank,  an 
aristocrat  by  birth  and  temper,  amid  all  the 
bustle  of  still  undiscredited  Greek  democracy, 
had  reflected,  not  to  his  peace  of  mind,,  on  the 
mutable  character  of  political  as  well  as  of 
physical  existence;  perhaps,  early  as  it  was,  on 
the  mutability  of  intellectual  systems  also,  that 
modes  of  thought  and  practice  had  already  been  in 
and  out  of  fashion.”* 


It  is  unlikely  that  we  would  fully  grasp  at  first  glance  the 
menace  immanent  in  this  principle  as  Plato  did.  Pater  voices  this 
idea. 


But  Plato  saw  the  doctrine  of  mibility  as  an  agency  for  in- 
finitely strengthening  the  expansive  strain  in  the  volatile  Greek 
nature,  and  disseminating  the  best  elements  in  its  genius.  Possess- 
ing the  most  varied  natural  gifts,  impatient  of  restraint,  eager  for 
experience  and  novelty,  passionate  individualists,  the  Greeks  de- 
veloped in  their  life  to  the  fullest  extent  the  tendency  toward  in- 
finite division,  toward  separation  off  from  the  body  politic*  ira- 


* Plato  and  Platonism.  Walter  Pater. 


"Mobility!  We  do  not  think  that  a necessarily 


undesirable  condition  of  life,  of  mind,  of  the 
physical  world  about  us." ^ ) 


-72- 

pelled  "by  what  Pater  calls  Mthe  centrifugal  tendency."  "Independ- 
ence, 1 oca]  and  persona], — it  was  the  Greek  ideal  I" 

Yet  whatever  the  doctrine  of  motion  may  mean  to  us  in  the 
way  of  multiplied  sympathies,  of  versatil ity,  of  expanding  wisdom, 
it  was  for  Plato,  as  Pater  points  out,  a fallacious," vicious  ten- 
dency." Plato* s constant  pre-occupation  in  philosophy  was  to  trans- 
cend experience, to  get  hack  of  phenomena,  to  lay  hold  of  whatever 
there  is  of  the  permanent  or  absolute  in  metaphysics,  with  an  eye, 
always,  we  may  remark  in  passing,  for  the  significance  of  his  dis- 
coveries in  the  apprehension  of  beauty,  and  in  the  cultivation  of  the 
virtues  of  the  good  life.  Near  the  first  of  the  sixth  book  occurs 
a characteristic  passage. 

"Since  philosophers  alone  are  able  to  lay  hold 
of  the  eternal  and  immutable,  while  those  who 
cannot  attain  to  this,  but  who  wander  in  the  re- 
gion of  the  many  and  multiform,  are  not  phi!  - 
osophersw  which  of  the  two  classes,  think  you, 
ought  to  be  the  rulers  of  the  State?"* 

Plato  distrusts  knowledge,  opinion,  and  even  virtue  itself 
which  rests  alone  on  the  evidence  of  the  senses  (evidence  most  real 
and  genuine  to  Heracl itusl ) . Genuine  knowledge  can  be  attained  only 
through  the  love  of  truth,  the  Eros,  aroused  bjr  the  contemplation  of 
the  beautiful  and  the  true. 

There  is  a Doric  element  in  Pater  as  in  Plato,  to  which  the 
idea  of  "reasonable,  delightful,  order"  is  dear, --is  essentia]  to  a 
code  of  ethics  or  a cosmogony.  Such  a sentence  as  this,  occurring 
in  the  essay  on  The  Doctrine  of  Rest,  is  a characteristic  statement 
» The  Republic  of  Plato.  A] exander Kerr.  jhigjj] 18.  p.523. 


• • 


l"-C* 


.73  - 

of  the  vocation  of  philosophy:  "To  enforce  a reasonable  unity  and 

order,  to  impress  some  larger  likeness  of  reason,  as  one  knows  it  in 
one’s  self,  upon  the  chaotic  infinitude  of  impressions  that  reach  us 
from  every  side,  is  what  all  philosophy  as  such  proposes,”  And  it 
is  this  constant  pre -occupation  with  reality  as  Plato  conceives  it, 
this  almost  petulant  brushing  aside  of  the  world  of  sense,  this 
magnificent  trust  in  the  capacity  of  the  intellect,  which  becomes 
the  deliberate  aim  of  the  Platonic  philosophy,  and  furnishes  an 
adequate  explanation  for  the  constant  recurrence  of  such  a phrase 
as  "the  eternal  and  immutable," 

Parmenides  and  the  Eleatics  sought  only  that  "superior  grade 
of  knowledge  and  existence"  which  corresponds  to  Pure  Being,  "color- 
less, formless,  impalpabl e" , --a  philosophy  hopelessly  abstract.  Yet 
its  influence  may  be  traced  in  two  of  the  most  vital  ideas  of  the 
Republ ic.  the  opposition  of  what  is  to  what  appears,  and  the  opposi- 
tion of  knowledge  to  opinion.  The  Eleatic  influence  in  Plato’s 
ethical  teaching  may  be  traced  in  the  extreme  emphasis  placed  upon 
the  rational  part  of  the  soul,  the  static  principle  in  man’s  nature, 
Recal 1 ing  Plato’ s three-fold  division  of  the  soul,  and  the  location 
of  the  various  parts  in  the  head,  heart,  and  viscera,  we  find  the 
affections  and  passions  sternly  held  in  check  by  the  head,  or  ration, 
al  element. 

There  is  something  akin  to  the  "mortal  coldness"  of  the  Stoic 
emperor  Marcus  Aurelius,  to  primitive  Christianity,  to  the  regimen 
of  "the  clear,  cold,  inaccessible,  Impossible  heights  of  the  book  of 
the  Imitat ion" . in  this  doctrine  of  conterrrptus  mundi.  Here,  if  we 
are  occupied  with  the  progress  of  Greek  thought,  we  find  the  seeds 
of  that  later  development  of  Plotinus  and  the  eclectic  philosophers 
of  Alexandria  whose  pre -occupation  with  the  ineffable  ^key  word  of 


-74- 

Neo -Platonisml ) and  whose  desire  for  a mystic,  incomprehensible  union 
with  the  One,  produced  as  a harvest  the  most  singular  mysticism  of 
the  Occident,  - one  whose  derivation  from  the  teachings  of  Plato  has 
been  so  obscurely  understood,  so  frequently  over -emphasized.  Here* 
if  we  are  occupied  with  the  expanding,  fruitful  intellect  of  Pater 
himself,  we  see  his  later,  matured  outlook  on  life,  in  which  the 
search  for  an  austere  beauty  becomes  an  absorbing  passion;  one  which 
clarifies  and  limits  in  an  entirely  healthful  way  the  more  youthful, 
luxuriant  aestheticism  of  Marius  the  Epicurean, 

It  was  inevitable  that  a mind  so  ceaselessly  active  as  Plato's 
should  seek  some  solution  or  outlet  from  the  dilemma  involved  in  the 
apparently  antithetical  principles  of  rest  and  motion,  of  multiplic- 
ity and  one -ness.  He  found  it  in  the  Pythagorean  doctrine  of  number. 
There  was  unity  in  varietyl  The  Platonic  Socrates  speaks, 

"Is  it  not,  then,  Glaucon*  on  this  account  that 
musical  education  is  of  extreme  importance,  be- 
cause rhythm  and  harmony  enter  most  profoundly 
into  the  soul  and  take  the  strongest  hold  upon  it, 
bringing  grace,  and  making  a man  graceful  if  he  is 
rightly  educated,  but  if  not,  the  reverse?  and  al- 
so because  he  who  has  been  properly  trained  in 
music  will  have  the  keenest  perception  of  omissions 
and  defects  in  works  of  art  or  nature,  and,  right- 
ly showing  pleasure  or  disdain,  will  praise  what  is 
beautiful  and  receive  it  into  his  soul  and  feed  upon 
it,  and  thereby  become  noble  and  good,  and  will  just- 
ly blame  and  hate  what  is  repulsive,  while  he  is  yet 


-75 


young,  even  before  he  is  able  to  apprehend  the 
reason  why,  and  when  reason  c-omes,  he,  from  being 
thus  educated,  will  recognize  and  most  heartily 
welcome  the  friend  with  whom  he  is  already  familiar?"* 

Here  we  find  one  particular  ramification  of  that  universal  numerical 
relation  which  Pythagoras  observed  in  the  world,  admitted  as  an  in- 
tegral part  of  the  Perfect  City,  and  most  nobly  elevated  there; 
music,  endowed  by  Plato  with  a significance  other  than  that  of  the 
beautiful,  and  one  we  may  think,  facing  squarely  an  issue  on  which 
Pater  will  perhaps  not  agree  with  us  in  thinking  a higher  and  nobler, 
--the  ethical , 

It  would  be  inaccurate  to  place  all  the  emphasis  on  the  ethic- 
al idea  embodied  in  Plato’s  treatment  of  Pythagoras’  doctrine  of 
number*  Two  other  of  the  ideas  which  have  been  most  importantly 
connected  with  his  name  took  root  deeply  in  Pythagorean  teachings; 
the  famous  doctrine  of  reminiscence,  and  that  other  so  nearly 
identified  with  the  name  of  Plato,  metempsychosis,  "the  transmigra- 
tion of  souls  through  various  forms  of  the  bodily  life,  under  a law 
of  moral  retribution,"  These,  however,  verge  very  nearly  upon  being 
what  we  would  call  the  basis  of  a formal  philosophical  system.  And 
it  is  not  by  systems  that  we  will  come  to  an  understanding  of  Pater, 
Pater’s  function  is  neither  that  of  apologist,  nor  of  scholarly 
commentator.  He  is  a partial  exegete,  an  interpreter  of  those  ele- 
ments in  Plato  which  appealed  to  him;  the  lover  of  sensuous  beauty, 
the  greater  lover  of  "the  central  and  inner  beauty",  the  richly  gift- 
ed man  infinitely  impressible  with  the  emotional  and  poetic  values  of 
1 ife. 


* The  Republic.  p,153 


-76  - 

There  is  no  nicer  question  in  letters  than  the  business  of 
estimating  the  relative  importance  of  Plato  and  the  real  Socrates  in 
the  Reuubl ic  and  in  the  Socratic  dialogues  reported  by  Plato,  nor  one 
which  has  proved  more  attractive  to  the  generations  of  scholars  who 
have  attempted  to  evaluate  and  distinguish  the  elements  which  go  to 
make  up  the  Platonic  Socrates.  In  introducing  the  subject  of  Plato 
and  Socrates,  Pater  says,  referring  to  the  meager  independent  sources 
of  information  we  possess  about  Socrates,  "The  Socrates  of  Xenophon 
is  one  of  the  simplest  figures  in  the  world"®  In  the  same  connection, 
Paul  Elmer  More  remarks, 

"Now  Xenophon  was  a most  amiable  gentleman  and 
an  admirable  writer,  but  with  the  least  possible 
tincture  of  philosophy  or  moral  enthusiasm  in  his 
soul;  and  it  is  generally  recognized  that  his 
Memoirs  of  Socrates,  while  presenting  a faithful 
picture  of  the  master’s  daily  life,  quite  fail;  to 
grasp  its  higher  and  more  universal  meaning."* 

Prom  this  we  may  gather  correctly  enough,  I think,  that  the 
matter  of  disentangling  two  such  minds  as  those  of  Plato  and  Socrates, 
so  intimately  and  closely  knit  as  those  of  Plato  and  Socrates,  is  one 
to  be  approached  in  great  humbleness  of  spirit®  The  relation,  so 
intricate,  and  of  such  stupendous  significance  in  the  history  of 
philosophical  thought,  began  when  Plato  was  just  matured.  It  came  at 
a time  when  a corrective  force  could  make  itself  felt  most  tellingly 
upon  his  expanding,  but  still  impressible  nature.  Socrates  served  as 
a much  needed  balance  wheel,  a restraining  influence,  to  narrow  and 
give  a definite  "set"  to  the  scope  of  the  genius  of  the  young  Plato, 
and  to  guide  it  toward  the  most  productive  ends.  But  Socrates  served 
* TS t e s t P a.  El  ,Um 


.77. 

as  more  than  a mere  stabilizing  device.  Ke  was  urged  on,  as  we  say, 
by  a passion  for  the  real „ the  distinguishing  between  appearance  and 
the  essence  of  things,  between  fleeting  phenomena  and  the  eternal 
verities. 

One  sees  in  this  the  explanation  of  his  tortuous  logic,  the 
scrupulous  attention  to  the  fixing  with  meticulous  exactness  the 
precise  meaning  of  the  most  ordinary  terms  used  in  practical,  every- 
day affairs.  All  this  sounds  familiar  enough  to  the  student  of  the 
Repub 1 ic.  It  is,  indeed,  as  we  have  come  to  view  it,  Platonic, 

Prom  Socrates*  super -refinement  of  common-sense8  was  born  the  in- 
tellectual ism  of  the  younger  philosopher,  into  which  he  introduced 
the  elements  of  a richer,  less  austere,  and  more  poetic  mind,  "All 
that  is  best  and  largest  in  his  own  matured  genius  he  identifies  with 
his  master;  and,  when  we  speak  of  Plato,  generally  what  we  are  really 
thinking  of  is  the  Platonic  Socrates.” 

"Austere  as  he  seems,  and  on  well-considered 
principle  really  is,  his  temperance  or  austerity,, 
aesthetically  so  winning,  is  attained  only  by  the 
chastisement,  the  control,  of  a variously  interest- 
ed, a richly  sensuous  nature.” 

This  is  a pregnant  sentence:  throwing  a searching,  illuminat- 
ing light  on  Pater  himself. 

The  beautiful  and  the  Goodl  It  is  a union  Pater  could  not 
have  contemplated  without  enthusiasm,  one  which,  occurring  in  Plato, 
must  have  confirmed  him  in  certain  of  his  own  most  cherished  ideals. 
Yet  there  is  a curious  suggestion  of  a.  hierarchy  of  virtue  here  too. 
The  order  of  writing  "the  beautiful  and  the  good”  was  not  accidental. 
At  another  place  Pater  reflects  that  Plato  is  tried  not  only  with 
"the  difficulty  of  arbitrating  between  some  inward  beauty,  and  that 


.78  » 


which  is  outward; M •• .but  "that  even  to  the  truest  eyesight,  to  the 
best  trained  faculty  of  soul,  the  beautiful  woul d never  come  to  seem 
strictly  concentr ic  with  the  good, " This  failure  to  bring  the  two 
principles  into  harmony  (famous  wordi)  involved  Pater  in  a struggle, 
intensified  so  far  beyond  the  ordinary  because  of  his  poetic  nature, 
delicately  responsive  to  sensuous  appeal, -.a  struggle  whose  outcome 
was,  that  the  two  principles,  as  he  saw  them,  were  irreconc il eabl e. 
And  so,  failing  magnificently,  with  an  appealing  gesture,  he  chose, -- 
the  beaut  if uli  It  was  nothing  other  than  the  triumph  of  the  dominant 
principle  in  his  nature,  one  to  be  viewed  charitably  as  inevitable. 

Yet  Pater  is  no  pagan  reveller  in  the  pleasures  of  sense.  He 
demonstrates  everywhere  a sober  pre-occupation  with  matters  of 
ethical  import,  which  show  clearly  how  near  to  his  heart  the  problems 
of  conduct  and  moral  harmony  lay.  With  Aristotle’s  definition  of 
virtue  in  mind,  perhaps -.-"virtue  is  a disposition  or  habit,  in- 
volving deliberate  purpose  or  choice,  consisting  in  a mean  that  is 
relative  to  ourselves,  the  mean  being  determined  by  reason,  or  as  a 
prudent  man  would  determine  it" --he  exalts  not  the  natural  temper- 
ance of  a cold  or  phlegamtic  disposition,  but  the  temperance  that  is 
acquired;  the  temperance,  in  short,  of  such  a man  as  Plato,  or  as 
Pater  himself,  in  whom  the  expanding  or  centripetal  tendency  operat- 
ed constantly  to  divert  the  vital  energy  away  from  the  central  pur- 
pose of  life. 

Yet  it  would  be  willful  blindness  to  overlook,  in  the  passage 
concerning  the  temperance  of  Plato,  quoted  at  the  beginning  of  this 
section,  that  "his  temperance  or  austerity"  is  "aesthet ical 1 y so 
winning, " This,  certainly,  is  a treacherous  advocacy  of  the  moral 
1 if  el 


-79- 

In  approaching  PI ato’ s doctrine,  Pater  still  keeps  in  mind 
what,  by  his  ’'singularly  intimate  interpretative  power"  he  conceives 
to  be  the  prominent  features  of  the  Platonic  pers onal ity --the  "poetic 
thought",  the  "imaginative  reason."  Here  one  recalls  again  what  was 
said  at  the  outset  of  Plato  and  PI  at on ism,  The  elements  in  Plato 
were  all  germinal  in  Greek  thought  long  before  his  day.  His  dis- 
tinguished contribution  was  in  giving  to  them  their  form,  in  combin- 
ing them,  fusing  them  together,  and  in  endowing  them  with  a signifi- 
cance which  they  could  never  have  come  to  have  without  being  passed 
through  the  crucible  of  a great  mind.  Pater  feels  constantly  this 
close  touch  with  the  past,  and  awareness  of  the  temper  and  tendency 
embodied  in  the  Platonic  thought, 

"The  Platonic  doctrine  of  ’Ideas’,  as  was  said, 
is  not  so  much  a doctrine,  as  a way  of  speaking 
or  feeling  about  certain  elements  of  the  mind; 
and  this  temper,  this  peculiar  way  of  feeling, 
of  speaking,  which  for  most  of  us  will  have  many 
difficulties,  is  not  uniformly  noticeable  in 
Plato’s  Dialogues,  but  is  to  be  found  more  es- 
pecially in  the  Phaedo,  the  Symposium,  and  in 
certain  books  of  The  Repub 1 ic.  above  all  in  the 
Phaedrus, " * 

The  same  is  true  of  the  famous  Platonic  dialectics.  The 
Socratic  dialogue,  indicates  by  its  name,  the  origin  of  the  method 
of  procedure  in  the  Platonic  Dialogue,  "The  Platonic  Dialogue  is 
the  literary  transformation,  in  a word,  of  what  wqs  the  intimately 


♦ Plato  and  Platonism,  p,165. 


t 


-80- 

home -grown  method  of  Socrates,  not  only  of  conveying  truth  to  others, 
but  of  coming  by  it  for  himself*"  Plato  is  striving  always  with 
this  conscious,  painstaking,  artful,  sometimes  sophistical  method, 
to  set  up  a standard,  a criterion  for  social,  or  ethical  values;  a 
tremendously  practical  undertaking^ 

The  search  for  "universal  definitions"  became  the  proper 
business  of  all  real  knowledge*  It  was  a slow  process;  painful,  dead, 
ly  logical,,  demanding  constant  correction  and  qualification.  Yet  it 
determined  the  theoretical  and  practical  nature  of  Justice,  and 
built  the  Perfect  City!  It  is  not  given  to  humanity  to  come  to  a 
nearer  approximation  of  perfection  (if  I may  be  allowed  a danger- 
ously absolute  termj ) . One  experiences  in  the  Republ ic  a real  sense 
of  elevation,  a very  inspiriting  admiration  for  the  possibilities 
of  fearless,  utterly  sincere  intel 1 igence,  particularly  in  such  a 
direct,  honest  speech  as  this,  so  characteristic  ofthe  Platonic 
Socrates; 

"I  do  not  yet  know,  myself;  but  we  must  just  go 
where  the  argument  carries  us,  as  a vessel  runs 
before  the  wind." 

Turning  to  Sparta,  where  Plato  found  certain  qualities  of 
Laconism  which- he  felt  necessary  to  the  complete  development  of  his 
own  ideal  Reoubl ic » Pater  shows  again  how  the  complexion  of  his  own 
intellectual  life  is  determined  to  a large  degree  by  certain  of  his 
favorite  ideas*  Again,  it  is  the  aesthetic  quality  which  he  is 
looking  for,  and  which  he  finds  abundantly*  "The  very  trees --how 
they  grow--exercise  an  aesthetic  influence  on  character,"  I find 
at  no  point  in  Pater  the  suggestion  that  character,  or  those  sta- 
bilizing moral  and  ethical  principles  upon  which  character  is  founded 
may  interfere  in  the  moulding  of  aesthetics,  __  _ _ _ 


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At  another  point  Pater  allows  his  fancy  to  play  around  the 
idea  of  an  Athenian  visitor  versed  in  the  City  of  Plato’s  Republ ic. 
coming  among  the  Dorians a He  notices  that  the  people  are  very  sus- 
ceptible to  ”eternal  aesthetic  influence”,  but  have  too,  "a  certain 
strongly  conceived  disciplinary  or  ethic  ideal”  which  revealed  it- 
self in  Ha  self-denying  humour*” 

In  this  nearly  parallel  statement  of  the  values  involved  in 
the  moral  and  aesthetic  ideal,  we  find  the  former  exalted  as  high  as 
we  shall  ever  discover  it  in  Pater*  Still  again,  Pater  views  with 
comprehensive  and  sympathetic  eye,  the  spectacle  of  Laconian  life, 
”with  its  earnestness,  its  precision  and  strength,  its  loyalty  to 
its  own  type,  its  impassioned  completeness”,  only  to  find  it  ”a  spec- 
tacle aesthetically,  at  least,  very  interesting,”  I cannot  avoid 
More’s  comment*  ”Really,  a more  complete  perversion  of  history  has 
not  often  been  conceived,”  The  remark  strikes  me  as  possessing  an 
unescapabl e reasonableness*  I cannot  but  think  that  the  marked 
aesthetic  element  which  Pater  found  in  the  life  of  Lacedaemonia  was 
largely  read  in  it  by  the  peculiar  twist  of  his  own  temperament.  He 
saw  Sparta  through  the  romantic,  poetic  haze  of  his  own  nature, 
through  mists  which  blurred  the  landscape  of  Lacedaemonia  so  that 
the  rugged  line  and  mass  of  the  Lacedaemonian  mountains  were  lost 
in  faintly  outlined  peaks  of  azure.  He  was  deceived  by  a beautiful 
mirage  into  thinking  that  he  was  gazing  back  through  history  upon 
an  aesthetic  Arcadia,  where  morality,  and  virtue,  and  goodness,  were 
all  the  willing  handmaidens  of  beauty, 

I could  not  end  this  section  of  the  discussion  more  aptly 
than  with  a sentence  which  More  takes  from  Plato:  ”When  any  one  pre- 
fers beauty  to  virtue,  what  is  this  but  the  real  and  utter  dishonor 
of  the  soul?” 


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-82 


Recapitulation . 

Aesthetic  beauty,  I believe,  is  still  placed  above  moral 
beauty  in  Pater’s  mind,  though  there  is  a notable  progress  here  over 
the  relation  between  the  two  in  Marius  The  Epicurean,  for  example,. 
This  may  be  taken  to  represent  the  full  er,  more  sober,  and  more 
mature  appreciation  of  the  relative  values  of  the  two  contrasting 
beauties  in  the  full  life  which  he  so  consistently  enjoined  upon  his 
contemporaries.  And  this  fact,  largely  disregarded  and  almost  al- 
ways underestimated,  may  be  the  key  to  a nearer  and  more  sympathetic 
appreciation  of  Pater  than  would  be  otherwise  possible. 

He  is  here  in  his  Platonism  something  far  different  from  the 
Pater  satirized  by  Mallock  in  his  Hew  Republ ic.  This,  the  farthest 
development  of  Pater,  shows  how  slight  is  his  kinship  with  the 
school  of  young  writers  who  later  came  to  fasten  upon  certain  ele- 
ments in  his  creed, --the  intense  life,  the  careful  development  of 
the  perception  of  beauty  in  the  world  of  sense,  which  they  took 
over  so  enthus iasticall  y, --without  scrutinizing  the  strong  tendency 
in  the  Pater ian  man  to  contemplate  moral  beauty,  to  exalt  the  func- 
tion of  reason  in  reenforcing,  inhibiting,  and  governing  in  all  ways 
the  report  of  the  senses,. 


,83. 


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